


Shards of Memory

by QueenieZo



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Dorky Link, Dorky Zelda, F/M, Fluff and Angst, POV Multiple, Post-Game, Slow Burn, but not too angsty, everybody's dorky, i am trash for zelink, lots of zelink, zelink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-11-12 18:25:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18016049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenieZo/pseuds/QueenieZo
Summary: 100 years after the Great Calamity, a hero rises to right the wrongs of Hyrule. With the help of the Princess who carries the blood of the Goddess, the warrior wielding the soul of a Hero defeats Calamity Ganon for another 10,000 years. Zelda and Link then begin the arduous process of rebuilding Hyrule. But a mysterious stranger threatens to ruin everything for which the Princess and the Hero have fought.





	1. Fragments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first foray into the Zelda fandom. I have only played Breath of the Wild (I once turned Majora's Mask on, moved a few feet in-game, and then turned Majora's Mask off), so please be gentle, true-blue Zelda-fans.

“May I ask... Do you really remember me?” 

Even after everything that had happened—Ganon, the Guardians, her own sealing power sending Malice back to the void from whence it came to stew for another 10,000 years—Zelda found Link’s memory at the forefront of her mind. Surely her dearest friend recalled their adventures together. Sure, they happened more than a hundred years ago, but she still remembered clear as day. Though she’d initially fought her father over the hero she’d viewed as little more than a babysitter, Zelda had grown to care for her appointed knight. He was the only thing that kept her going during her hundred-year waking nightmare. The knowledge that Link was nearing the castle gave her the strength to renew the fight keeping Ganon contained. And here on this sunny field, the wind gently blowing the wildflowers and the sky so brilliantly blue it put Link’s Champion tunic to shame, surely nothing could be bad. 

But the moment stretched between them, giving her pause. 

Zelda took a step forward, reaching out a hand. Though she tried to keep the stagger out of her legs, one hundred years had not done wonders for her muscles. 

“Link?” 

His mouth opened and closed a few times, as though he were trying to figure out what to say. Zelda felt her legs wobble, not just from exertion. She’d never given thought to the possibility that he might not remember. Zelda had known the Shrine of Resurrection might rob him of some memories, but all of them? What had she done to him? 

“I recall the memories you left on the Slate…” Link touched the object in question at his hip. “And a few scattered meetings with Daruk, Urbosa, Revali, and... Mipha. But… nothing beyond that.” 

Zelda felt her world tip sideways. Nothing? Not their Champion’s Festival banquet, where he’d stuffed himself so silly on fruitcake she thought she would have to roll him back to the guards’ chambers? Not the impromptu concert they’d stumbled into one day at Serenne Stable, where she’d convinced him to dance even though he clearly had two left feet? Not even the bad times, like their first meeting, when Zelda had been so horribly dismissive that she still felt the hot pangs of guilt? Nothing? 

Link shrugged, an appropriate look of contrition on his face, though it wasn’t his fault. “I’ve tried to remember. Believe me. But it’s just…” He waved a hand in front of his face. “Blank.” 

His look of casual distress, as though he were used to such an agonizing state, lanced through Zelda’s heart. And of course he would be used to it by now. He’d spent so many months wandering the wilds of Hyrule with nothing more than the clothes on his back. He didn’t even know what he was missing. The thought broke her heart. 

“Oh, Link…” 

He shrugged again, looking uncomfortable. “It’s not really important.” 

“Of course it’s important—“

“I don’t think this is the time to discuss it, Princess, with all due respect.” She could see his eyes begging her to drop it. Zelda almost protested, but years of courtly training allowed her to keep her tongue. If he’d rather not talk about it right now, she could respect that. She had lots of things she didn’t want to talk about. She decided on a safer response. 

“Zelda.” She smiled. “Please call me Zelda. I think we’ve gone through enough together to dispense with the titles. Unless you’d prefer I call you Sir Knight.” 

He smiled shyly, and Zelda felt it like the warmth of the sun. She’d not seen a smile since long before the Calamity. The Calamity… 

Zelda turned back to the castle, now blessedly Malice-free. Her castle, she thought. She still had a duty to her kingdom. Hyrule would have a queen once more. The thought did not bring her peace. And yet, she felt strangely drawn to her old home and couldn’t stop her feet from heading towards it. 

“Zelda…” Link hurried to catch up with her. “It’s not safe, there are still monsters—“

“I’m not going inside. I just… want to see it.” 

Zelda didn’t know how to articulate her feelings properly to her knight, her so-very-dedicated knight who’d chased after her even with no memories and no allies in battle, just because she'd asked him to. Her most cherished friend and closest confidant, he was the only remnant of her previous life. Except for the castle. Something about it just demanded her closure. 

But Link seemed to understand. If anyone would, she supposed, it would be him. 

They walked in silence through the ruins of Castle Town. Decaying Guardians, no longer controlled by Ganon, sat motionless. Zelda couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran down her spine. Her home had been well and truly destroyed. She tried to not dwell on the fact that if she’d just unlocked her sealing power earlier, she might have saved them…

When they reached the castle gates, Zelda directed her gaze skyward, to the tallest spire. The observatory had always been one of her mother’s favorite places. They’d spent countless nights there, young Zelda gazing through the delicate brass telescope while her mother taught her constellations. Her father had never understood their fascination with the stars. 

Her poor father… She thought back to their last conversation: that horrible day on the path to her study, when he’d told her she was heir to a throne of nothing. Why couldn’t Ganon have waited one more day? Perhaps she and her father might have reconciled then. Her memories were poisoned by Malice, and they left a bitter taste in her mouth. 

She glanced at Link, who met her eyes. A silent agreement passed between them, and they turned together and left. The castle and its memories could wait. 

But still she felt uneasy, like someone was watching her. 

You’ve done well, Zelda. 

It was little more than a whisper, and Zelda couldn’t be certain she’d heard it at all. But she turned back to the castle, feeling like she knew that voice. 

“Father?” Zelda breathed. 

Goodbye, my dear. 

She took a faltering step forward. “Father, wait!” 

But the voice was gone. 

“Come back!” Zelda fell to her knees, tears welling up. “Please don’t leave me.” 

She felt, rather than saw, Link kneel next to her. “Zelda.” 

His gentle voice broke what little remained of her resolve, and tears ran unchecked down her face. Her father was well and truly gone. She was alone. No, that wasn’t quite true; she had Link. A Link who didn’t remember their previous bond. Who might as well have been a blank slate. She couldn’t handle that. She lurched forward. 

“Link, please—” Zelda reached for his hand, not noticing her Triforce starting to glow. “You must remember—"

The moment she made contact, the world turned golden. 

Zelda heard a rush of voices she didn’t know. Some spoke levelly, some shouted, some laughed. She heard voices she did recognize: Daruk, Mipha. Her own. But throughout them all, one name kept popping up: Link’s. 

Zelda shut her eyes against the rising noise, but she couldn’t seem to separate her hand from Link’s. Make it stop. 

The cacophony reached its zenith in volume, and Link was blown backwards in a shower of gold and blue. 

Zelda’s eyes flew open. Link lay on his back some distance away, temporarily stunned. 

“Link!” Zelda raced to his side, tripping over her prayer dress as she fell to her knees. His hair stood out at odd angles, like he’d been struck by a shock arrow. His eyes were closed. “Oh, Goddesses, what have I done?” Zelda grabbed him, tilting his head into her lap. She could feel his uneven breathing, see his eyes darting around under their lids. She touched his face gently, smoothing his hair across his forehead, to no response. 

“Link… Link! Please wake up!” 

The Triforce once again illuminated on the back of Zelda’s hand. 

She held her hand out away from Link, regarding it. The glow slowly diminished until the three triangles disappeared. Whatever had happened, she’d clearly been the cause of it. Zelda thought that after one hundred years she understood her sealing power. Clearly there was more to it than she realized. And clearly it was not all good. She hesitated as she brought her hand back down to touch Link’s cheek. What if she really hurt him? 

But Link groaned, and that erased any lingering fears from her mind. 

“Link?” 

His eyes fluttered open, unfocused. “What…?” His gaze landed on Zelda’s concerned face above him and he seemed to recover somewhat. “Zelda? What happened?” 

Zelda let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and wiped away the remains of tears from her cheeks. Her father would have to wait; she had lots of experience denying herself grief, and so she simply locked the door on her lost loved ones, to be revisited at another time. “I don’t know. I touched your hand and suddenly everything turned golden and you were launched backwards and—oh, Goddesses, Link, I thought I’d… Are you alright?” 

Link sat up with a groan. Zelda kept a hand on his shoulder as she knelt beside him. 

“I think I’m going to have one hell of a headache.” 

Zelda’s fingers felt for the back of his head. His hair was surprisingly soft. She could tell she’d found the spot when he winced but did not pull away. Never one to shy away from pain, that one. 

“I think you’re going to have one sizable goose egg.” Zelda moved in front of him, holding up a finger. “You could have a concussion. Track my finger.” 

His eyes followed her outstretched digit. He seemed find in that regard. Zelda put her hand down, staring into his eyes. “Do you feel alright otherwise? I don’t know what I did but…” She trailed off, unable to express the guilt gnawing at her gut. 

Link shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “Well...” 

Zelda leaned forward. Link did not return her gaze, rubbing the back of his head gingerly. 

“I heard… things. Voices.” 

Zelda blinked in surprise. “You heard them, too?” 

Link’s head snapped up, shock painting his usually inscrutable face. 

“They were calling your name,” Zelda said quietly. “I heard Mipha and Daruk.” And me, she finished in her head. 

Link shook his head, as if to clear it. “I recognized others. One was talking about proper dueling stance…” 

“An old military instructor, perhaps?” Zelda said in an offhand kind of way. 

They seemed to come to the realization at the same time. Zelda covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, Link…” 

“It’s my memories,” he finished, mouth hanging open. 

"I returned your memory.” The realization did not bring Zelda joy the way she thought it would. Link seemed unsettled at best by this new development. Was it better for him to simply continue in his ignorance, so long as it did not bring him pain? 

Link shook his head, almost as if he’d read her thoughts. “It’s only fragments. An old military instructor…” He trailed off, lost in his head. Then his head jerked up. “His name was Tadas. I think… I think he was my father.” 

The statement nearly knocked Zelda back on her heels. His father? He wasn’t certain? 

Link suddenly sprang to his feet and paced back and forth on the flagstones. Zelda could feel his nervous energy. 

“Yes, that feels right. My father…” He stopped and stared at her. “Zelda, I can’t— I don’t remember—  
I can hear his voice but I can’t recall the color of his hair...” 

He sounded so lost that Zelda’s heart nearly broke. She would have given anything to spare him hurt, and yet she was the one who was responsible for all of it. The various cuts and bruises he’d suffered from monsters and Yiga alike over the course of their partnership. His grave injuries at the hands of that final Guardian. His loss of memory and self in the Shrine of Resurrection. And now this. When would she finally stop hurting those she cared for? 

“Did you ever meet him?” 

Link’s sudden question snapped Zelda out of her reverie of self-loathing. “No. You told me he’d been badly injured once and retired to train new recruits in Rauru. Long before you were appointed my knight,” Zelda finished, trying to let him down gently. But he seemed not to hear her. 

“Minshi Woods had excellent boar hunting,” Link said absently, eyes unfocused. 

Zelda’s eyes widened. Oh, how she wished for a journal to record her thoughts! “Link. You remember Rauru!” 

His eyes widened. 

Zelda couldn’t resist the urge to pace. “It would appear that your memories are not broken, as you so eloquently put it. They’re all there, inside your head, and can be triggered by certain stimuli, such as words, sights, sounds, perhaps even smells or tastes. If we could figure out the proper catalyst for each one, we may be able to restore some, if not all of your memories, just as we did with the Sheikah Slate!” 

Zelda had missed the thrill of scientific investigation. She turned to Link in triumph, expecting a smile. 

But her monologue seemed to provoke the opposite response, as Link stared at her with an intensity she could not place. 

“Try it again.” 

Zelda blinked. He’d never spoken so sharply to her, let alone given her such an order. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

Link stepped up to Zelda, getting closer than she expected. He was a few inches taller than her; she had to tilt her head back slightly to meet his eyes. When had that happened? “You gave me back my memories, incomplete as they were. Maybe if you used your power again, the rest of the fragments would fill in. Try again. Please, Zelda.” 

She’d never heard him plead before. 

“I… can’t.” 

Link reached out a hand to grab Zelda’s forearm, then seemed to think better of it, pulling back to rub his neck. “You can, Zelda. It’s just like your sealing power—you just have to learn how to—"

“Ignoring the fact that I don’t know what I did and therefore don’t know how to recreate it,” Zelda spoke over him. He didn’t understand her meaning. "I could have really hurt you. Could still really hurt you if I tried to do something I don’t know how.” Link merely rolled his eyes and turned away. 

“I don’t care about that.” 

It struck Zelda that this was not the same Link she’d once know. He had the same face, the same smile. He moved in the same way, lithe and graceful like a Sheikah. But where he’d once had at least a modicum of thought for his own well-being, now it seemed he was more reckless than ever. One hundred plus years and no memories made him lose all sense of self-preservation, and that scared her. 

Link started pacing, obviously agitated. He’d once been so unreadable that it unnerved Zelda to see his emotions so clearly painted on his face. “I’m not some piece of ancient technology, Zelda. My mind is not a Sheikah Slate. We can’t just assume what worked for it will work for me.” 

Zelda put her hands on her hips. He was starting to get under her skin. “And yet you’re asking me to experiment on you with Goddess knows what results. I won’t mess around inside your head, Link.” 

“No, you’ve clearly already done enough of that.” 

His words almost knocked her backwards. Both of them froze, staring at each other over the grass. Zelda wanted to curl in on herself. Of course she’d already messed with his mind enough. She was the reason that he was no longer the Link she knew. It was her fault. Everything that had happened was her fault. She tried to blink away the sudden tears that sprang to her eyes. Link looked like he regretted the words, but he said nothing. 

Zelda stood up straight, ignoring her watering eyes. “You want to scramble your brains around some more, do it yourself. I won’t.” 

And she turned away, unable to stand the hurt in his sapphire-blue eyes. Her eyes fell on the castle once more, which didn’t ease her pain. 

“Zelda—“ 

But she ignored him. trying to steady her breathing. It suddenly occurred to her that she was ravenously hungry, and that her trembling legs were likely to give out at any moment. Fighting a monster made of pure Hatred for one hundred years could do that to a person. 

She heard Link take a deep, shuddering breath, then let out a sharp whistle. 

Zelda turned to see his horse, a peachy-blue dappled mare, come trotting over with a pleased whinny. Link very pointedly avoided Zelda’s eyes as he checked his saddlebags. “We should get moving, if we want to get to Kakariko by nightfall.” 

Zelda raised her eyebrows in surprise. “We’re going to Kakariko?” 

His impenetrable mask had returned to his face. She had no idea what he was thinking; it felt like when they’d first become partnered. Zelda didn’t like that one bit. 

“The castle is still crawling with monsters. Kakariko is the closest village. And Impa is there.” 

Zelda’s heart skipped a beat. Though she’d watched over Link’s quest as he rebuilt up his strength to take on the castle, she hadn’t been able to keep an eye on him at all hours of the day. And so she had no idea about her beloved mentor. “Impa is still alive?” 

“Purah and Robbie are, as well.” 

Zelda felt her heart swell with affection. Her old research compatriots. Her old life was not entirely dead, it seemed. 

Link pulled a bundle of forest-green and brown cloth out of his pack and held it out to her, still not meeting her eye. “Foxglove can carry us both but you might want... It’s going to get colder, Princess.” 

They were back to “Princess.” Oh, dear. He was more upset than she thought. Not that she could blame him. But she would not change her decision. She was done fiddling with Link’s mind. Zelda took the bundle from him and he immediately turned away and mounted the horse. With a sigh, she ducked behind a nearby tree to examine the clothing. 

It was a clean, sleeveless green tunic with a simple brown long-sleeve undershirt, complete with matching shorts. Zelda couldn’t help the small, sad smile that formed on her lips. The shorts would make riding the horse astride instead of sidesaddle bearable; the tunic and shirt would easily ward off the night’s chill. Even when he angry with her, he was still mindful of her comfort. Perhaps he wasn’t so different from the Link she once knew. Or perhaps he was simply a thoughtful individual. Zelda didn’t want to dwell on that train of thought much more, however, so she slipped the shorts on under her dress and pulled the shirt and tunic over her head. She looked quite the sight, the green tunic just slightly too large standing out against the stained white of her prayer dress. But she was comfortable, and that was what mattered. 

She walked back over to Link and Foxglove. “Thank you.” 

Link just shrugged, holding out a hand. Zelda hesitated. What if her power did something else she couldn’t control and didn’t understand? Link noticed her pause and withdrew his hand. That was that, then. Zelda grabbed the saddle and hauled herself up, with no small amount of effort. Her arms were just as weak as she’d found her legs to be. She swayed a little in the saddle as Link directed the horse towards Kakariko. 

“Would you happen to have any food? I’m afraid one hundred years has not done wonders for my stomach,” Zelda said quietly, afraid to upset him further. He reached into a saddlebag and pulled out an apple. 

Zelda had forgotten what food tasted like. She closed her eyes in pleasure as she bit into the crisp fruit. The sweetness of the interior balanced out the slight tartness of the skin; Zelda decided she’d never experienced anything so wonderful. In no time at all, she’d finished the apple and tossed the core away. Her stomach still clamored for more, and Link silently handed her another. 

Their journey to Kakariko was uneventful. Zelda wished she could fill the silence with the easy conversation they’d once shared, but she found she was content to simply observe the scenery. She’d missed the sound of crickets, the feel of the cool wind on her cheek. The sun slowly set, casting a pinkish hue over the land. Zelda breathed in the twilight air. Inside her prison of Malice, the air had always been uncomfortably warm, and much too close. She would never again take a fresh mountain breeze for granted. She couldn’t help throwing back her head with a smile. A laugh bubbled up unbidden from within her. 

“I’d forgotten what a sunset over the Gerudo Highlands looked like,” Zelda murmured, more to herself than anything. She wasn’t expecting Link to respond, but he did, his voice low like hers. 

“Hyrule has changed a lot in the last hundred years.” 

Zelda could tell he meant more than what he said, but she couldn’t figure out his subtext. So she chose the simplest response. “The mountains are the same.” 

He had nothing to say to that. 

By the time they reached Kakariko, night had long since fallen. They dismounted before the gate and walked the horse the rest of the way. The sentry at the gate snored in his seat; they walked by unnoticed. 

Zelda had always liked Kakariko. The town was simple, with its plum trees and farm fields. But there was more than met the eye to this humble village. The people, as Sheikah, were rigorously trained in the martial arts and could defend their home from any who might try to damage it. Zelda never doubted Impa’s ability to protect her when she’d been young. 

Before long, Impa’s house came into view. Manor was more the proper term for it, though. Built on a flat outcropping of rock in the lake, it stood higher than any other residence in town. It could have housed several people, though as far as Zelda knew, Impa had no family other than Purah. She couldn’t resist breaking into a run as she neared the steps, which were guarded by one burly Sheikah man. 

“Princess, wait!” Link called behind her. 

“Princess?” The guard asked, his mouth falling open in a perfectly round O. It was almost comical. 

“Pardon me. I know it’s late, but I require an audience with Impa.” Zelda tapped her foot impatiently. The guard closed his mouth and shouldered his spear. 

“Lady Impa has—"

Link caught up to Zelda. “It’s alright, Dorian. She’s with me.” 

The guard, Dorian, turned to Link. “Master Link, I don’t think you understand…” 

Zelda found she couldn’t wait any longer and took advantage of their distraction to hurry up the steps. 

“Princess!” 

She ignored Link’s call and pushed open the door. 

“Impa, oh, how I’ve missed you! I can’t wait—“ Zelda stopped at the sight that awaited her. 

The oldest lady Zelda had ever seen sat perched on a stack of cushions in the back of the room. Her face was hidden by a large straw hat weighted down with ornaments.

Sitting before the old woman was a beanpole of a young Hylian man and a young Hylian woman with sleek brunette hair. In the corner, a young Sheikah woman stood straight, as though she were uncomfortable. 

All four turned to Zelda as she entered. The old woman raised her head, and Zelda recognized the blue Sheikah tattoo on her forehead. 

“Zelda, my dear.” Impa’s voice wavered as tears sparkled in her eyes. “I knew you’d return.” 

Zelda heard Link enter behind her. She hardly noticed his sharp intake of breath. Her eyes were drawn to the Hylian woman, who bore a striking resemblance to someone Zelda knew very well. The young woman smiled, her familiar green eyes crinkling at the corners. Zelda’s legs nearly gave out. 

Impa noticed Zelda’s stare. “I’d hoped for a less auspicious introduction, but…” 

The young Hylian woman stood. “I’ve got this, Impa. Princess Zelda, I’ve waited so long to meet you.” Her smile was so warm, just like… just like Zelda’s mother. “I am Yenobia, your twin sister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zelda's life was already as dramatic as a soap opera, I just went the extra mile and added the long-lost secret twin.


	2. Not-So-Silent Princess

Link could see the resemblance. That’s what frightened him most. When Dorian had stopped him at the door, Link brushed him aside. As an ex-member of the Yiga Clan, he could be especially cautious when it came to strangers, and Link chalked his nervous demeanor to Zelda’s sudden appearance. But now he wished he’d paid more attention. He could have been more prepared. 

Zelda stood as still as a statue. Link felt a stab of concern for the princess. He’d spent the ride to Kakariko mostly stewing in his own head, anger brewing at his companion. But now was not the time to get lost in such thoughts. He had a duty to his princess, even if he was mad at her. And Goddesses, was he mad. They were his memories, and he had a chance to get them back. But she’d refused.  
Why should she decide that now was the time to stop messing around inside his head when she’d been doing that ever since he woke up in the Shrine of Resurrection? 

Link shook off his swirling anger and redirected his sights back to the young woman in front of him. Yenobia was not identical to his princess. Where Zelda’s hair was the color of golden sunshine, Yenobia’s was more like the soil in his own garden back in Hateno: rich and dark, with glints of silver from the lamplight. Yenobia was a bit taller, closer to Link’s height, with a more muscular build. But both had the same shining green eyes, like the water in the Faron Sea. Link recognized the way Yenobia held herself, with her arms behind her back and her feet close together, much like Zelda did when she was curious. And yet, the similarities only served to heighten Link’s unease. Could she possibly be telling the truth? 

Link allowed his eyes to sweep over Yenobia and her companion, performing a cursory check for weapons or threats like it was second nature. Link realized with a start that it probably was; he’d once been a soldier and his former commander, whoever that had been, had surely ingrained that into his head. Link shook off his pesky memory haze and returned to the present. 

Yenobia looked no more of a threat than Zelda, which was not necessarily reassuring. She carried no weapons that Link could see, but that only made her more dangerous. The unknown made Link antsy. 

Her companion looked similarly benign, but Link had met enough Yiga disguised as travelers to never discount a friendly face. The skinny young man was not much older than Link, with a mop of dishwater-blond hair hanging in his eyes. He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, as if he could not find a comfortable position to stand; he’d clearly not yet grown into his lanky frame, with his long legs crossed clumsily at the ankles. Link silently calculated how to use the young Hylian’s height to his own advantage, should it come to a fight. He also carried no visible weapon, though he looked like he was more likely to hurt himself than anyone else. 

Link’s fingers itched to clutch the hilt of the Master Sword, not necessarily because he felt a threat, but the Sword always felt comforting in his palm, like a missing piece finally reunited. He glanced at Paya standing half in shadows in the corner. With the shadow of a blush on her cheeks, she gave him the tiniest shrug, eyes focused on the scene before her. Impa’s granddaughter was often too shy to speak without stuttering, but Link never underestimated her for a moment. Impa was once the greatest Sheikah warrior of her time; he knew that she’d passed that training down to Paya. The young Sheikah woman was far deadlier than she looked. 

Link trusted Paya’s judgment. She would never let any strangers harm her grandmother, especially not after the Yiga had stolen Impa’s relic. If she was willing to hear out Yenobia and her Hylian companion, there must be something to their story. Link felt his shoulders droop. What did that mean for Zelda? 

“My… twin sister.” Zelda’s voice sounded blank. 

Yenobia took a half-step forward, then seemed to think better of it, bringing her hands out from behind her back and crossing them around her chest. “It’s quite a story, if you care to hear it.” She seemed nothing but earnest. 

Zelda turned her attention back to the old woman. “Impa, what is this?” 

The Sheikah woman smoothed her robes. “My dear Princess.” 

Link could swear she had tears in her eyes. 

“I have waited to speak to you again for one hundred years.” Impa adjusted herself on her stack of pillows, wincing as though the slight movement hurt. "But we shall have to wait just a little longer. You should listen to what Yenobia has to say.” 

Yenobia sat back down on her cushion, her companion following suit. Her smile remained inviting, guileless. Link found himself insatiably curious. 

Zelda stiffly turned back to Link. It hurt him to see the lost feeling in her eyes. He could read the silent plea in her eyes, begging for help, for guidance. But Link had none to give. He could not make this decision for her. He stoically shrugged. Zelda didn’t seem reassured, but she moved to sit down some distance away from Yenobia. 

Paya fetched two more cushions, blushing wildly as she handed one first to Zelda. He could hear her reverently murmur, “It’s truly an honor, Your Highness.” Zelda was so bewildered that she didn’t respond beyond a curt nod, but Link gave Paya a small reassuring smile, which only inflamed her blush. She scurried back to her corner, task finished. 

Impa raised a hand when everyone was settled. “Now, regarding the events of her own story, I cannot corroborate them. But Yenobia’s claim is true. She is what she says.” 

Link blinked back his shock. She truly was Zelda’s sister? How could such a thing be hidden for so long? 

“Forgive my disbelief.” Zelda spoke evenly, if sarcastically, though Link could see the slight tremor in her fists balled up in her lap. She was still dirty from her hundred-year fight, grime lining her fingernails and staining her once-pure prayer dress. Her hair was knotted and windblown, and she looked like she was about to faint from exhaustion. But Link still could not tear his gaze away. 

Yenobia reached out a hand placatingly, withdrawing when she saw the look on Link’s face. “Do not worry, Princess. I had quite the trouble believing it myself.” 

“Spin me your yarn, then,” Zelda said dismissively. Link didn’t buy her nonchalance for a second, and he didn’t think anyone else did, either. 

Yenobia looked to her companion, who gave her an encouraging nod. 

“Before I begin, I would like to express my gratitude. To you, Princess—“ Yenobia nodded at Zelda. “And to you, Sir Knight.” Yenobia smiled at Link, who remained impassive. He wasn’t going to be easily swayed. “Your steadfast bravery and unyielding dedication to defeating the Calamity deserves the greatest rewards. All of Hyrule is indebted to you; it is a debt we can never truly repay. But let us try by offering our praise.” 

Yenobia’s companion nodded furiously along, his shaggy hair shaking into his eyes. He and Yenobia bowed their heads reverently. 

Link looked away, uncomfortable with the display. He’d never needed any deference in the past, and he wasn’t about to start now. He didn’t require thanks; he was simply doing his job. He was a Knight, after all. 

Zelda, on the other hand, was used to such displays of worship, and she dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “Tell me your story or don’t, but get on with it either way. Don’t make me wait another hundred years.” 

Impa snorted, turning her laugh into a cough. Though Link may not have remembered Zelda fully, he knew her well enough to recognize the small smile that threatened to break out on her face. He couldn’t deny the warmth he felt bloom in his chest. 

If Yenobia was offended by Zelda’s snark, she didn’t show it. She simply straightened back up and readjusted herself on her cushion, settling into a more comfortable position. “As you wish, Princess.” 

Yenobia took a deep breath. “Some one hundred and nineteen years ago, a Queen discovered she was pregnant.” 

Zelda inhaled sharply. Link almost reached out to grip her hand, but he caught himself. 

“The discovery brought her great joy, for she could not wait to welcome her new daughter into the world. For Hylia always blesses the Queens with daughters. But what she did not know, what no one could know, was that not only one daughter slumbered within her womb. There were two.” Yenobia held up two fingers. For some reason, the gesture set Link on edge. Yenobia was a born storyteller, and Link felt unease creep up his spine. This story would not be comforting. 

“Twin girls born to the Royal Family was an unprecedented occurrence in Hyrulean history. After the birth, the Queen was unable to decipher the blessing—or perhaps curse—of twin daughters. So she reacted. Rightly or wrongly, we shall never know. But for the good of the kingdom, or so she believed, she separated the girls. If one were to fall to the Calamity, the other could take her place. Otherwise, she need not concern herself if the Princess were successful. An heir and a spare.” 

Yenobia leaned forward, putting a hand to her mouth, like she was sharing a secret. “Personally, I believe she just wanted to make succession easier. Two Princesses, possibly both with the power of the Goddess, could cause a political nightmare should they both claim the throne. Hyrule need not suffer that kind of division.” 

Link could see the wisdom in the decision. 

“Whatever her real reason,” Yenobia continued, “the Queen chose one daughter at random. This girl was then destined to rule her kingdom—and possibly face down Malice incarnate. The other was sent away, destined to know nothing of her royal heritage.” 

Link glanced at Zelda. His breath caught when he noticed she had gone white, like she were about to swoon. Her fists were clenched so hard Link was concerned she would draw blood. 

Yenobia seemed not to notice, swept up in her own story. “This decision was made all within moments of the birth, with only the midwife and a trusted advisor present. Not even her husband the King knew of it—let alone the fact that he had not one, but two daughters. He would never know. He might try to seek the other out one day, something the Queen could not risk. Cruel, perhaps. But a necessity to ensure the success of her plan. 

“And so, the chosen Princess was presented to the King, his only daughter. The spare was spirited away, entrusted to the Queen’s closest advisor.” Here Yenobia glanced at Impa, who gazed back steadily, betraying nothing. “The… very young advisor gave the spare to a loyal Sheikah man to serve as her caretaker. He decided they would be safest deep in Akkala, an old traveler and his young girl.” 

Yenobia steepled her fingers under her chin. The gesture was shockingly familiar to Link. “The spare grew up oblivious to her birthright, just a normal, precociously curious girl who loved exploring the countryside and tinkering with any bits of gemstones she could find in ore deposits. It was a happy existence. Ignorant, but unaware of her ignorance. Her caretaker loved her with the deep affection of a father. He encouraged her inquisitiveness and her intelligence. She grew up quite taken care of. But it was not meant to last. As I’m sure you know all too well, Calamity struck.” 

Link gripped the hem of his Champion’s tunic. Of all the things he could remember, the Calamity was most vivid in his mind. The unrelenting rain that ran cold down his back as he and the Princess ran. The inescapable metallic tang of battle and blasting powder on his tongue. The screams of the poor people of Castle Town as Malice-infected Guardians struck. Link squeezed his eyes shut at the onslaught of sensations, trying to flee the past and all the pain it brought. 

After a few deep breaths, the memories faded and the roaring in his ears subsided. Link opened his eyes to find he’d missed part of Yenobia’s story. 

“—thought we would be safe in Akkala. But they took the Citadel. They took it with ease. Like the walls were little more than paper.” 

Throughout the story, Yenobia had appeared profoundly detached, the third-person narration reinforcing that. But Link noticed with the sharpness of a soldier the shift in her telling. She too clenched her fists hard like Zelda. Link wondered if she too would draw blood. He chanced a glance at Zelda. Her eyes had glazed over; he couldn’t tell if she heard anything Yenobia said at all. 

But Yenobia was not finished. “We were cornered by a Guardian Stalker. I thought we were goners. We tried to take it down, cut off its legs, anything to stop it; it was no use. My dear Baba did everything he could to protect me. But it wasn’t enough. It was about to fire when suddenly everything went golden.” 

Link glanced at Zelda’s right hand, where the glowing golden power, illuminated by the Royal Crest of the three triangles, resided. Nothing now marked her hand as extraordinary. But Link knew the power that slumbered within. 

“I thought the Guardian had fired its beam, and perhaps that was it. We’d gone to live forever with the Goddess. But I realized the golden… light was… me. It came from my hand in a great blast, and when it subsided, the Guardian was dead.” Yenobia regarded her own left hand, as if memorizing the back of her hand. “I killed it.” She clenched her hand in a warrior’s gesture and took a deep breath, regaining her calm demeanor. “The caretaker then told the girl about her true parentage.” 

Link slumped a little. He preferred the third-person detachment over the first-person horrors any day. 

“She did not believe it at first. But she could not deny the Goddess-blessed power she wielded. She ultimately decided she had to go to Hyrule Castle. No one knew what had become of the Princess or the Hero. But all could see the wretched Malice that swarmed the Castle. If she was Hyrule’s last hope, she had to try. But the most curious thing happened. The most glorious golden light engulfed the Castle. And suddenly the Beast could go no further than the boundaries of the stronghold. But that was all the girl saw, before she fell into a waking slumber. She was not aware of the passing of time, only of the warmth of the Goddess, and somewhere distant… the presence of a sister.” 

Yenobia locked eyes with Zelda, who had not regained her color. She sat so stiffly, Link wondered if she was frozen. 

“I felt you fighting Ganon. I tried to lend you my strength, though I did not know if you could use it. But you prevailed. I suspect you could have prevailed with or without my help. After all, you had the strength of your Knight as well.” Yenobia nodded at Link with a smile. “And when you were finally released from your prison, I was also. Hyrule had changed. My dear Baba… he was no more.” 

Link couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw tears sparkling in the girl’s eyes. 

“In his place I found Jabin.” Yenobia gestured to her companion. The Hylian smiled warmly at her. “My father had kept watch over me as long as he could, and when he knew his time was nearly up, he designated a successor, who then designated Jabin. He has been a great comfort in acclimatizing me to the present.” 

Jabin inclined his head. “It has been my pleasure, My Lady.” The pitch of his voice suggested someone younger, not the man of surely twenty who kneeled before them. Link decided he would not need to keep as close an eye on Jabin. The man could be knocked over by a stiff wind. 

Yenobia turned back to Link and Zelda. “Baba gave his successors instructions to seek out Impa of Kakariko when I awoke. I am glad we did. I might not have met you so quickly had we not.” 

Yenobia smiled at Zelda, her story finished. Link felt the whole room take a breath. The telling had taken the better part of an hour, and Link suddenly noticed the stiffness in his shoulders. His eyes took a turn about the room, landing first on Paya, who had remained standing by the stairs. She had tears on her cheeks, though she furiously tried to brush them away when she saw Link looking. 

His gaze next fell on Impa, who looked very tired. Rather like how Link felt. Had it really only been that morning when he’d battled Ganon? He felt like he could sleep for another hundred years and still be exhausted. He had no idea how Zelda had kept it together for so long; she hadn’t even gotten the rest of the hundred years. 

Link’s gaze found his Princess last. She had barely moved since the story began, and had said nothing. She still sat with her hands clenched in her lap, her face now entirely blank. Link realized he had no idea how she would react. Would she accept the tale? Would she laugh at the joy of finding a sister, or cry at the loss of a family? Her silence unnerved him. If the Princess was one thing, silent was not it. 

“The hour grows late,” Impa croaked. She spared Zelda a concerned look. "I know it is a lot to take in. Perhaps we should retire, reconvene in the—“

Zelda shot to her feet, swaying a little. Her sudden movement startled Link, who had the Sword pulled halfway out of its scabbard before he realized what had happened. 

All eyes were on the Princess. 

“Zelda?” Impa asked gently. 

“Princess?” Link inquired softly. Her gaze fell on him, still on the floor. 

Then, without a word, she turned and fled out the door as fast as her feet would carry her. 

The remaining Hylians and Sheikah stared after her in shock. 

It took Link a moment to process Zelda’s sudden disappearance. Then he was on his feet and halfway to the door before he realized what he was doing. 

“Sir Knight!” Yenobia stopped him with a hand on his arm, though she quickly removed it when she saw the look he gave her. “I did not mean to upset her. I thought she wanted to hear the truth.” 

“Zelda has been through much today,” Impa counseled softly. 

Link regarded Yenobia for only a moment. He noted the earnestness in her green eyes, so similar to Zelda’s. “The truth is sometimes hard to bear.” 

And with that, Link was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Zelda. Girl never catches a break.  
> I truly appreciate each and every comment and kudos given, so thank you for reading!


	3. Machinations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, this chapter is a long one.  
> We're playing loose and fast with the politics of Hyrule, but that's why it's called fanFICTION.  
> A lot happens in this chapter, but I wanted to keep the alternating Link-Zelda perspective per chapter, so that meant this one has a lot of stuff. Apologies if it feels somewhat disjointed.  
> I plan on updating new chapters on Sundays, so feel free to hound me to stay on track!  
> Thanks again to everyone who has commented/left kudos/read at all!

Zelda ran. 

In some ways, she felt like she’d been running for most of her life. She ran from Spring to Spring, trying to harness her blasted power. She ran from Champion to Champion, seeking answers from the Divine Beasts and the shrines. She ran from the tragedy of her mother’s death, even if it was just in her own mind, retreating to a place deep inside her head where the pain could not reach her. 

She ran when Calamity Ganon struck. 

She’d run until she could run no more. When there was no one left—save one. 

“Prin— Zelda!” 

She’d put herself in that Guardian’s path without thinking. She’d had no idea her power would awaken—only one thought overwhelmed her mind. You will not take him. Her knight belonged at her side, not mouldering in the ground. So she’d run to—not from. 

She was tired of running. And yet it seemed all she was ever destined to do was run. Even now, when she should have earned a break, a respite, a breath of Goddess-damned air, she now had to deal with the shattered ruins Hyrule had become. One would think that defeating the Calamity would have placated everyone for awhile. No such luck, it seemed. 

“Zelda, where are you?” 

Her sister could have been Zelda instead. 

Sister. 

The mere word put a sour taste in Zelda’s mouth. How could her mother do such a thing? Giving up one daughter randomly because two was too many? Though Zelda had been only six at the time of her mother’s death, she still remembered the woman, and the kindness she exuded. She’d been a beloved Queen, because she truly cared about her people. She’d turned Hyrule into the thriving utopia it had once been. Could she really have acted so callously with her own daughters? 

If one had asked Zelda that two hours ago, she would have answered no. Of course not. Her mother was a good person. She loved her family. 

But Zelda could not find the lie in Yenobia’s story, no matter how outrageous it sounded. And Impa had not objected to any of it. Surely she would not entertain such a falsity. 

Did Zelda really know her mother at all? 

But among the whirling dervish in her head, the same thought kept spinning around. 

It didn’t have to be her. 

Zelda’s destiny—the thing to which she had dedicated her entire life, the thing that, had she failed (well, failed more than she already did) meant the end of life as Hyrule knew it—was given to her at random. Because her mother picked her instead of Yenobia. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. 

Zelda thought she might be sick. 

“Zelda, come on!” 

She was tempted to let him stew. She was quite comfortable in her isolation. She’d left Impa’s house with no destination in mind, and her feet had carried her to the graveyard. Wedged between the headstones and statues, Zelda clutched at her knees, not minding the wet grass seeping into her dress. She was half-inclined to join the silent stones forever. Perhaps it was a desecration, but she didn’t think the dead minded very much. It was really rather fitting; a place to mourn the death of her previous life, and everything she thought she knew about it. Not only her royal blood, but her knight as well. Oh, sure, he still looked the same. He still sounded the same (though Zelda really had very little to go off of before the Calamity). He still fought with the same effortless grace and lithe energy. But he wasn’t the same. A blank slate, but not quite. Even as he regained his memories, fragmented as they were, he somehow lacked the tact he’d once possessed. Somewhere along the way, he’d lost himself. Because of you, the voice in Zelda’s head whispered. 

Another failure to add to her ever-growing list. 

So in response to the rising panic in his voice, Zelda called quietly, “I’m here.” Were it anybody else, she would not have expected them to have heard her. But Link had excellent senses; it was one of the things that made him such a stellar knight. 

After a few moments, she could hear his grass-muffled footsteps approaching, and he came into view, a silent reprimand in his eyes but relief plain on his face. Another difference; he was suddenly much easier to read than he’d been once upon a time. The thought strangely did not bring Zelda much comfort. 

Link came to a stop in front of her, hands on his hips. His stained and torn Champion’s tunic matched the shade of his eyes almost exactly. Zelda wondered fleetingly what had become of her own Champion’s gear. 

“If you’re here to reprimand me, don’t waste your breath.” 

Link raised an eyebrow. “It’s not my place to reprimand you, Princess. I’ll leave that to Impa.” 

“Back to ‘princess’ again, are we?” Zelda muttered. 

Link squatted down so he was level with Zelda. “If you’re going to run off, at least wait for me.” 

Zelda rubbed her eyes. Goddesses, she was tired. “Maybe the point of me running off was to be alone. Ever think of that?” 

“Do you want to be alone?” Link’s voice was impossibly soft. 

Zelda met his eyes. The concern she found was her undoing. She could not stop the tears spilling over. 

“Oh, Link!” 

She was suddenly reminded of another time she’d cried on the ground in front of her Hero, but she couldn’t bring herself to fall into his lap like she’d done then. They’d changed too much; she had no idea how he might respond. 

“How— how could—“ Zelda couldn’t even voice the question. “I don’t believe...” 

Link settled on the ground, swinging the Master Sword’s scabbard off his back and laying it next to him. “It’s pretty unbelievable.” 

“But I do believe it! That’s what I don’t believe!” Zelda cried. 

Link blinked, uncomprehending. 

“It’s entirely unbelievable, the whole thing, and I just… believe it.” Zelda buried her face in her hands. “My mother lied to me. She lied!” 

Zelda could not contain the sob that ripped through her body.

“For years, she lied, not just to me, but to my father, and to her people! She put it all on me because she was scared of a little potential political strife! Goddesses, I just—“

Zelda hiccuped. It was too much. She sobbed into her hands. 

“Why did it have to be me?” Zelda whispered. She spoke it mainly to herself, not expecting Link to hear, let alone respond. 

But she felt a light pressure on her shoulder as Link rested a warm hand. “Because you had the strength to bear it.” 

Zelda shook her head. “She has the power of the Goddess, too,” she said petulantly. She felt like a small child, crying and complaining, but she couldn’t stop herself. 

“That’s not what I mean.” 

Zelda peeked up at Link through her fingers. He met her gaze steadily. 

“You held the Calamity at bay for one hundred years, Princess. You kept Ganon contained within the castle through sheer force of will. I’m not sure anyone else could have done that, even your sister. I couldn’t have.” 

Goddesses, what had she done to deserve such a knight? Even after all she’d done to him—endangering his life, destroying his memories, messing around in his mind—he still believed in her. He was willing to stick by her, when by all rights, he should be allowed to enjoy a quiet life. She gave him a watery smile. He was right. It wasn’t Yenobia’s fault their mother had made the decision she did. 

After a moment’s hesitation, Link extended a hand. 

“It’s time to head back, Princess.” 

Zelda took his proffered hand slowly. No golden power erupted between them, though Zelda could have sworn she felt a spark. 

Link pulled her to her feet, his hand suddenly gripping her arm when she swayed where she stood. Zelda blinked away the black spots that gathered at the edge of her vision. The day’s events were finally catching up to her. She hadn’t slept in one hundred years. 

“You need rest, Princess.” 

Zelda took several deep breaths, trying to clear the static in her head. When she felt confident in her ability to stand without fainting, she shook her head. “There is something I must do first.” 

They walked together back to Impa’s house, Link’s grip on Zelda’s arm never faltering, though Zelda insisted she did not need the help. Yenobia and Jabin stood on the porch, watching for them. When she saw Zelda and Link approaching, Yenobia waved with her whole arm. The exuberant display lightened Zelda’s heart a little. 

Yenobia and Jabin met Link and Zelda at the foot of Impa’s stairs. The guard from earlier watched them from some distance away, near a cooking fire. 

Before they could say anything, Zelda said,

“Yenobia, if I could speak to you in private?” 

Yenobia nodded furiously. “Of course, Princess.” 

Zelda sat next to Yenobia on the bottom step. Link and Jabin joined the guard at the cooking pot. Zelda didn’t know how begin, but Yenobia, it seemed, never ran out of words. 

“Princess,” she said hurriedly. “I’m so sorry for distressing you, it was never my intention; I swear everything I told you was the truth, it just sounds so—“

“Yenobia.” 

The girl stuttered to a halt, staring at Zelda with wide eyes. 

“I believe you.” 

Yenobia blinked, at a loss finally. 

Zelda continued. “I don’t know why, but… I believe you. I just… was affected by the story, and what it means for… my family.” 

Yenobia nodded. “It’s hard when your family lies to you.” 

Her words hit Zelda right in her heart. The girl understood. Zelda had to take a deep breath to steady herself. 

“I can’t say I’ll warm right up to you but… I’m willing to try if you are,” Zelda finished with a watery smile, which Yenobia returned. 

“I’d like that, Princess,” she responded quietly. 

“Zelda,” Zelda said. “If we are to be sisters, you must call me Zelda.” 

The two women shared a moment of quiet as they regarded each other. Zelda hoped she was making the right decision. 

But a moment was all Zelda could spare, as she once again swayed. If she didn’t lie down soon, she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t fall down. 

Yenobia noticed, and reached out a hand in alarm. “Zelda?” 

Zelda tried to wave her off, but Link was at her side in an instant. “It’s time for you to sleep, Princess.” He helped her to her feet, supporting her weight once again. 

“Goodnight, Yenobia,” Zelda called weakly as Link helped her up the stairs. 

“Goodnight, Zelda!” 

Somehow, Knight and Princess made it to the top of the stairs without toppling backwards. Zelda was so out of it that sounds were muffled. She couldn’t even hear what Impa said to Link as he helped her up to the living quarters on the second floor and deposited her in the bed on the floor. She was asleep as soon as she hit the mattress. 

————————————————————

A week after Zelda arrived in Kakariko, the Royal Council assembled. 

Once she’d slept for almost two days, Zelda had awoken to Impa’s feverish preparations for a council meeting. Zelda knew she had to leap headfirst back into the royal life, little though she wanted to, and so she’d prepared herself, familiarizing herself with the old leaders and new ones, with the help of Link. After eight months traveling this way and that across Hyrule, he was quite knowledgeable. 

Zelda had attended a royal council meeting only once before—when she was still small enough to sit on her mother’s lap and play with the various fancy pens laid out on the table. She’d begged her mother to let her see what all the “pretty people” did at their meetings, and her mother had acquiesced.

Zelda had never experienced anything so mind-numbingly boring as that one meeting. But, Goddesses, how she now wished she’d paid more attention. Her father had deemed unlocking her sacred power more important than matters of state, and so now she found herself at a severe disadvantage. She barely remembered proper protocol, let alone all of the noble houses. 

Those noble houses now sat around several tables lined up in Impa’s house. Historically, each province possessed a Hylian noble family which served as a liaison between their peoples and the castle. Eight houses in total, including her own royal one. There should have been a ninth, but the people of the Great Plateau had died out long ago. 

Two houses had brought more than one representative. Twelve altogether sat around the tables, including Zelda and Impa at either end. It was incredibly cramped, and the dim light and close air did little to ease Zelda’s nerves. 

Zelda did not know these people who kept stealing glances at her. She remembered a handful of the old stock, but these were a new breed, and she did not know which she could trust. If one thing from her time at the castle stuck out in Zelda’s mind, it was the constant intrigue of court that her maids gossiped about when they thought she couldn’t hear. Someone was always trying to flatter or seduce or oust someone else. It all seemed very tiresome, and Zelda was glad she was not involved, wrapped up as she was in her own quest for her power. What she wouldn’t give for gossiping maids now. 

At least she had allies. 

Link, as always, stood tall behind her chair, hands folded at his waist, surveying the room with calculating eyes. Claree of the Kakariko clothing shop had mended and cleaned Link’s Champion tunic, which he now wore, coupled with a simple pair of trousers and polished boots. He cut an imposing figure, with the Master Sword strapped to his back. 

Beside him, Yenobia stood with her hands clasped demurely behind her back. Zelda had asked her to be present in the meeting, if for no other reason than moral support. Yenobia had tried to decline, saying she had no right to be there, but she’d quietly given her assent when Zelda reminded her she had as much right as herself. Zelda couldn’t quite explain to herself why she wanted Yenobia there, but perhaps she felt she owed her sister something. Or perhaps she just wanted another friendly face amongst the unknown. 

Yenobia had changed from her traveler’s clothes into a pretty green dress that fell to her mid-shin (also courtesy of Claree) with a cream-colored pinafore embroidered with deep purples and reds in a zigzag pattern. Her long brown hair curled in the summer humidity, much like Zelda’s did. But despite her simple appearance, Yenobia did not look any bit the peasant. Something about the way she tilted her chin implied a regal nature, a knowledge that she was more than she appeared. 

Or maybe Zelda was just seeing what she wanted to see. 

Zelda cleared her throat, but it did little to quiet the nobles as they chatted amongst themselves. She had no idea how to call the meeting to order. But luckily Impa seemed to catch her look, banging a hand on the table and rasping out a harsh, “Order!” 

The table quickly fell silent, staring at Zelda. She felt her heart beating in her throat. She’d never actually had to lead before. 

“Yes, well… I would like to thank you all for coming in such a timely matter,” Zelda said. "I know some of you journeyed far to be with us.” 

A portly man wearing the sandy browns and reds of Eldin and sporting an impressively bushy mustache leaned forward. “And what of your own journey? What has brought you here?” 

Impa rapped her knuckles on the table. “I’d expect everyone here to know the proper way to address the princess, wouldn’t you, Lord Brandle?” 

Brandle leaned back in his chair, stroking his mustache contemplatively. “That is my question, I suppose. Is she indeed the princess?”

An older woman bearing a hat characteristic of Akkala’s farmers raised a gnarled hand. “She certainly doesn’t look a hundred years old. I’d say that’s more in your wheelhouse, Impa,” she finished with a cackle.

Zelda’s nerve faltered as she gazed at the skeptical faces around her. She couldn’t discuss the Calamity with a roomful of strangers. They wouldn’t understand; it was an event in a history book to them. Only Impa, Yenobia, and Link could possibly get it, and they already knew everything to know. And yet, she needed to talk about her hundred-year imprisonment for them to accept her claim. 

“I— the Calamity, it— I’ve been—“ Zelda couldn’t get the words out. Though she’d been protected from the worst of Ganon, incorporeal and shielded as she was, it had still be one hundred long years in which she’d had only pure Hatred for company, and it had taken its toll on her. Hylia, why did it have to be her? 

But Impa came to her rescue. “I vouch for the Princess. As you say, Vaclava, one hundred years is more in my wheelhouse. I knew the Princess Zelda of an age past, and I can say with certainty that this is the same young woman who took on the Calamity so many years ago, regardless of how she might appear.” 

Zelda could have hugged Impa. 

Lord Brandle waved a hand in acceptance and relaxed in his seat, looking convinced. Vaclava raised an eyebrow but said nothing. The rest of the room appeared divided, but remained quiet. 

Zelda shifted in her seat. “Thank you, Lady Impa. I know many of you are probably skeptical. I would be, as well. But I— I spent the last hundred years keeping Ganon contained within the walls of Hyrule Castle. And it— through Hylia’s blessing, I was kept in stasis, not aging. But the Calamity is defeated, thanks to Master Link, and I have returned.” Zelda turned a bit to see Link, who remained impassive, but she could see the lightness in his eyes as he returned her gaze. 

“Yes, speaking of the Sir Knight…” A man outfitted in necklaces of Lanayru luminous stone leaned forward. Everything about him was sharp: from his slicked-back hair to his midnight goatee to his piercing gray eyes. “I do wonder if his presence is necessary, or, indeed, warranted. Surely Kakariko is as safe as it gets, and I am… hesitant to discuss matters of state in the company of… those without noble standing. Even Lady Impa’s presence is pushing it. Just because we’re in her house...” 

Zelda resisted the urge to clench her hands into fists. Memories of the old court were slowly returning to her, and the snootiness of the nobles was first in her mind. As a distinguished Knight from a family of distinguished Knights, Link had as much standing as any lord present, but the nobles always did like to fancy themselves royalty-adjacent. 

“My lord, surely you are not asking the Champion of Hyrule or the greatest Sheikah warrior of all time to leave?” A voice rang out from behind Zelda. 

All eyes fell on Yenobia. Her green eyes flashed dangerously. 

“And who might you be?” The Lanayru man asked. 

Zelda felt strangely compelled to explain, though she knew in the back of her mind that as the princess, she didn’t need to. “She’s… I needed a scribe…” 

“I’m a friend of the Princess,” Yenobia replied with a grin. “That should be enough, I would think.” 

The younger man next to the Lanayru noble leaned forward, placing a hand on the older man’s arm. He was outfitted in the same Lanayru stones, though his were much less ostentatious. “Of course my father understands the importance of Sir Link to both the Princess and Hyrule.” The young man directed this at his father, who turned away with a huff.

The young man turned back to Zelda. He had the same gray eyes as his father, though his were not quite so calculating. He couldn’t have been much older than Link. “But I believe my father is simply voicing concern of allowing outsiders into our meetings. Hyrule finds itself in a vulnerable position, with the castle now empty. Historically, these councils have consisted only of the royalty and the nobles. But Hyrule is changing. I believe if the Princess deems them worthy, they be allowed to stay.” He smiled warmly at Zelda. 

The man’s father shifted in his seat, ignoring Zelda’s gaze. The rest of the room mostly nodded in agreement. 

“Thank you, Lord…?” 

“I am no lord, my Princess; that title belongs to my father, Lord Kaan. Maskett of House Shimzu, at your service, Your Highness,” the young man said with a courtly incline of his head. 

Zelda returned the incline and turned back to the room at large. She noticed the shrewd looks on the rest of the council members’ faces; they were sizing her up as much as she was trying to figure them out. She wished for Link’s impassivity. “If there are no more concerns regarding my companions, I should like to address more pressing matters. Namely, Hyrule’s need of a Queen.” 

The words sent ice down Zelda’s spine even as she said them. She knew nothing about being a queen, but… it was her duty. And Zelda did know a thing or two about duty. 

Lord Brandle leaned forward. “Begging your pardon, Princess—"

“Please, I don’t know names, so if you could introduce yourself before you speak, I would be most grateful,” Zelda interjected. 

The man nodded. “Hod of House Brandle, Your Highness, of Eldin. I was merely wondering about the state of the castle and how that might affect your coronation.” 

So they did accept that she would be Queen. At least she wouldn’t have to fight for her succession.

“For one hundred years, the castle was infected by Malice, as well as corrupted Guardians and other monsters,” Zelda explained. "When Link fought Ganon, the Sanctum floor was destroyed. Much of the rest of the castle, as I understand it, is in a similar state of severe disrepair. It will require a serious reconstruction before it is habitable.” 

A skinny man in his early thirties leaned forward, sticking a hand in the air. Zelda could see it trembling from her seat. “Pardon, Princess. I am Tenney of House Beyerdorf.” Everything about him was shaky, from his hands to his voice. 

Zelda nodded, as he seemed to need encouragement. 

Tenney continued, "In Necluda, we have a very respected construction company that I’m sure would be quite willing to take the project on.” 

Zelda smiled reassuringly. “That sounds lovely, thank you, Lord Tenney.” 

Tenney beamed at the praise and leaned back in his seat, satisfied. 

Zelda continued. “To answer your earlier question, Lord Hod, the castle will need to be somewhat repaired by the time I am coronated.” 

“It needs to stand as a symbol of Hyrule’s power, and the power of the royalty. Gerudo of course understands,” a woman bedecked in sapphires and finery purred. She sat beside two disinterested boys of about twelve or thirteen who were clearly identical twins. “Odilia of House Arenes, Your Highness. And my sons, Dacre and Drex. I thought this would be an excellent opportunity for them to learn something about politics.” 

They looked more interested in drawing crude doodles on the parchment in front of them, but Zelda chose not to comment, instead nodding politely. 

“Faron has excellent lumber, as I’m sure you’re well aware, Princess,” an old man with a shock of white hair stated proudly. Zelda was actually aware of this, having learned Hyrulean economics at a young age, but she could recognize a man who wanted to preen, and so she kept her mouth shut. 

“I am Jaakop, of House Gaborr, of course,” he finished with a vain smile. “We in Faron would be pleased as punch to supply whatever materials you might need.” 

“That’s… very kind of you, Lord Jaakop,” Zelda said. Her head was already spinning with names and titles and pompous characters, but she had one more to learn. 

The man in question, a lithe middle-aged man with a shock of black hair and an inviting smile, held up a hand. “Qiano of House Weltre, Your Highness. A real pleasure. Hebra of course can supply the stone.” 

Zelda nodded. “Well, glad that’s settled. I should also like to consult the Zora about silversmithing; we shall need their stores for new gates and such.” 

Kaan, the arrogant Lanayru man, puffed, “Oh, we can handle that just fine, Princess. No need to ask. The silver is in Lanayru, after all.” 

Zelda’s brows knitted. “But it is still under the control of King Dorephan.”

Kaan shrugged. “He still answers to House Shimzu.” 

“I… don’t think that’s correct,” Zelda said slowly. He was beginning to make her angry. 

Kaan scoffed. “Why wouldn’t it be? They answer to the Hyrulean royalty, don’t they? We are but an extension of the royalty, after all, as is the rest of the council.” 

“That’s another thing,” Zelda fumed. "Why should our council consist only of Hylians? Our kingdom is far more diverse; should not our assembly reflect as such?” 

Jaakop spluttered. Kaan seemed equally perturbed. Hod stroked his mustache, thinking. Vaclava steepled her fingers and peered at Zelda with shrewd eyes. 

Odilia leaned forward, hands spread placatingly. “A fine suggestion, Princess, but perhaps a matter for another meeting. We do have more pressing concerns at the moment, I’m sure you would agree.” 

Zelda recognized the misdirection but could not acknowledge it because Qiano was already speaking. 

“Like Vah Medoh,” he interjected. “It’s been acting screwy ever since it shot that blue beam into the castle.” 

Odilia nodded, her sons furiously mirroring her. Hod also nodded. 

Kaan sniffed. “Vah Ruta has been similarly out of sorts. Bloody dangerous menace, if you ask me.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, Zelda could just see Link standing off to the side. His jaw worked hard, as though chewing on the words he wished to speak. 

Maskett put a hand on his father’s arm. “What my father means is, the Beast starting spraying water again after it fired into the castle, and it caused some flooding issues. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.” 

“Of course there’s a bloody explanation,” Link muttered under his breath. 

But not as quietly as he apparently thought, because suddenly all eyes turned to him. Color slowly flooded his cheeks. 

“Have something to add, Sir Knight?” Kaan asked with a pointed grin. 

Link’s eyes met Zelda’s, and she gave him an encouraging nod. If there was anyone she wanted to hear from, it was him. 

Link swallowed. “They need new pilots.” One hundred years had made him blunt, it seemed. 

“Of course!” Zelda exclaimed. All eyes fell back on her, and she could have sworn she heard Link exhale in relief. 

“The Champions’ spirits must have departed once Ganon was defeated. The Beasts historically have never functioned on their own, nor were they designed to. The old legends say they were piloted by warriors. When my father and I selected the Champions of a hundred years ago, we looked for individuals of great skill from across Hyrule. We need new Champions.” Zelda relished the feel of a discovery. 

But her joy was short-lived. 

“Well, then,” Kaan said with a haughty smile. “I nominate my son, Maskett, as the next Champion of Vah Ruta.” 

The room erupted in twitters, with Odilia, Qiano, and Hod each voicing their nominations for Champions of their own, and the other ambassadors responding in kind. Zelda could only look on in shock. She glanced at Link, who wore a stony expression. Across the table, Impa watched the chaos with a sad look in her old eyes, but she didn’t appear surprised. Zelda supposed that after one-hundred-some-odd years, she had seen it all. 

“Pardon me! Lords and ladies!” Zelda tried to get their attention back, but the nobles were too loud. Vaclava and Kaan were engaged in a heated discussion about why Lanayru got the Divine Beast. Jaakop looked ready to physically fight Dacre and Drex as they chanted “Naboris! Naboris!” Tenney looked on in distress. 

Zelda brought her hand hard down on the table. It stung like the dickens, but it got everyone’s attention. She tried to surreptitiously rub her aching palm under the table. 

“I may not know much about royal protocol, but I’m certain the lords and ladies of old did not erupt into such a… a mess,” Zelda huffed. The council members looked thoroughly chastised, and Zelda continued. “I’m sure you all know that the Champions were Rito, Zora, Goron, and Gerudo—“

“Forgive the interruption, Princess.” Kaan bowed his head, though his eyes held no trace of regret. “My humblest apologies. But in the legends of old, there is no mention of the pilots needing to be of the various races. You said it yourself: the Champions need only be individuals of exceptional skill. Why not Hylians?” 

Zelda couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “It was no mistake that we chose who we did. The Divine Beasts were excavated in the territories of the other races, therefore it was only right they pilot them.” 

“To be fair, Your Highness, the Divine Beasts were found in the hinterlands of the realm, which technically puts them in the province of the ambassadors,” Tenney put in mildly. He withered under Zelda’s gaze. “But of course the other races did a bang-up job as pilots!” 

“Regardless, we appointed the Champions as a uniting measure—" Zelda sputtered. How were things spinning so out of control? “It’s only fair we continue—“

Kaan waved a hand dismissively. “The former Champions all died at the hands of Calamity Ganon. The only one who survived was Hylian.” He glanced distastefully at Link. “Perhaps that says something about the other races.” 

Zelda’s jaw dropped. “Lord Shimzu, I will not allow such intolerance—“

Jaakop raised a hand. “It has nothing to do with intolerance, Princess, and everything to do with results.” 

Odilia nodded along. The others around the table looked uncertain. Zelda wracked her brain, trying to think of something—anything—that would refute their words, but her mind came up blank. 

“Perhaps you should go up against Ganon yourself, see how your luck holds. Maybe that'll say something about Hylians,” Link spoke quietly. 

One could have heard a pin drop. 

Zelda swiveled in her seat to meet Link’s eyes, recoiling at the fury she found. She’d never seen him so angry. His blue eyes burned like spirit fire. 

“As a matter of fact, the only enemies I met in the course of my journeys around Hyrule were Hylians. Yiga, to be exact. It was only through the help of Zora, Rito, Goron, and Gerudo that I was able to succeed in the fight against the Calamity,” Link said, his voice dangerously quiet. “Those who assisted me along the way have more than proven their worth as Champions. Has anyone else?” 

Zelda wanted to applaud, but that was probably immature for the sovereign of Hyrule to do. She almost did it anyway. 

Kaan looked ready to burst a blood vessel. Odilia and Jaakop cast their eyes downward in embarrassment. 

“Though I know my presence here is allowed as a courtesy to the Princess only, and I don’t really have a say, I agree with Master Link.” Yenobia stepped forward, her eyes ablaze like Link’s. 

Maskett nodded firmly, eyeing his father. "Those who helped the knight should be the new Champions.” 

Zelda glanced around, finally back on steady footing. Thanks, as always, to her appointed knight. “Any objections?” 

None spoke, but the others did not look comfortable. Kaan looked downright murderous, but Zelda chose to ignore him. 

Yenobia also seemed to sense their discomfort. “Again, I know it’s not really my place,” she said, dispensing with any formality she’d had, "but if you all are so hesitant to accept Master Link’s word, perhaps the Princess should meet these Champion nominees herself, deem them worthy and whatnot.” 

The assembled nobles said nothing. 

Yenobia glanced around, eyes wide and innocent. “Surely you do not doubt the judgment of your future Queen?” 

Qiano, Tenney, Odilia, and Jaakop rushed to sputter that no, of course they did not doubt the Princess, that would be ridiculous. Hod and Vaclava watched thoughtfully. Kaan said nothing, his lips pressed tightly together. 

Zelda’s gaze fell upon Maskett, who gave her a small smile, which Zelda returned. It felt nice to have someone on the council who really seemed to be on her side. It helped that he was close in age to her. Perhaps the younger generation would bring Hyrule back to its former glory. 

Zelda silenced the kowtowing with a hand. “Yenobia’s suggestion has merit. Not only would it afford me a chance to confirm the new Champions, I need to reacquaint myself with Hyrule and its leaders. A tour would be just the thing. Master Link and I will set out tomorrow at daybreak. And when I return… I suppose it will be time for a coronation.” Zelda swallowed, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. Soon she would be Queen. 

The meeting adjourned after the final protocol had been followed. Zelda suddenly needed fresh air and so she hurried out of Impa’s house, finding herself leaning against the railing as the rest of the council members exited. 

Kaan swept out of the house, ignoring everyone else, his robes billowing out behind him. He mounted his horse tied up at the base of the stairs and rode away with an impatient “Hyah!” Zelda watched him go. He was clearly an arrogant man, and Zelda knew how dangerous that made him. Her father had been arrogant, thinking he could control the old technology and prophecies. Look where it got him. She would have to keep a close eye on the Lanayru noble. 

“He’s not as bad as he seems, I promise.” 

Zelda looked up to find Maskett leaning against the railing next to her. He was almost a head taller than her, with his long black hair tied back simply against the nape of his neck. He cut a striking feature, all angles and dark lines. 

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Zelda responded dryly. 

Maskett chuckled. “He’s never been one to like bowing to others. I, on the other hand, have no problem with a new Queen. Especially if she’s as intelligent and levelheaded as you.” 

He bowed low, sweeping Zelda’s hand forward and pressing a kiss to the back of it. Zelda blinked. She hadn’t experienced such a courtly gesture since the last time they’d held a ball at Hyrule Castle. 

Zelda couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped her, more from nervousness than anything else. “If only all the ambassadors felt the same way.” 

Maskett straightened back up, releasing Zelda’s hand. “They’ll come around. They’re just used to having their own way for the last one hundred years.” 

“Why, you know what? Me, too,” Zelda chuckled. 

Maskett smirked. “Wish I could’ve been a princess, too.” 

Zelda laughed and looked back out over Kakariko. The sun was fading; they’d been in the council for most of the afternoon. Children were running home to dinner, while the shopkeepers were slowly closing up for the night. It was peaceful here; that was the one thing that Zelda remembered most about the sleepy Sheikah village before the Calamity. It was always peaceful. Zelda wished she’d grown up in a place that knew such peace. 

“Forgive my interruption, Princess, as I can see you’re deep in thought.” Maskett smiled. “But I must be retiring for the night. I was wondering, however…” He paused, biting his lip. “Would I be correct in assuming Zora’s Domain will be your first destination on your tour?” 

Zelda nodded. “It is closest, and it makes the most sense to make a loop around Hyrule before returning.” 

Maskett’s smile grew wider. “I would be honored to escort you to Lanayru, if you would have me. It seems as though my father has left me to my own devices to return home, and it would be nice to have company.” 

Zelda opened her mouth to refuse, to say no, she and Link were fine, but something held her back. Maskett was charming, it was true. But more importantly he’d supported her in the meeting. Perhaps this would be a good opportunity to begin building alliances. 

Zelda smiled. “An escort sounds lovely, Master Maskett.” 

“Oh, please,” he said. “I am not one for titles. Maskett is fine, I assure you.” 

Zelda nodded. “Then you must call me Zelda in return, I insist.” 

Maskett grinned and bowed once again. “I shall see you at sunrise, then, fair Zelda.” With that, he descended the steps and headed towards the inn. Zelda watched him go, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. 

“Well, isn’t he spiffy?” 

Zelda turned with a start to see Yenobia leaning against Impa’s house, failing to suppress a smile. Zelda rolled her eyes. 

“He’s the son of a lord. He’s supposed to be ’spiffy.’” 

Yenobia joined her at the railing. The setting sun caught her dark hair, turning it shades of red. 

“I’m a little jealous, to be honest. How will you handle traveling with two cuties?” She teased. 

Zelda’s breath hitched. “Two cuties?” 

Yenobia laughed. “Oh, don’t act like you don’t know who I’m talking about. I’ve seen the way the girls in this village swarm your little knight. He’s developing quite a fan club, I’d say.” 

Zelda glanced around, looking for her so-called little knight. He was nowhere to be seen. In fact, Zelda hadn’t seen him since the meeting had adjourned. 

Yenobia noticed her looking. “Oh, he hurried off pretty quickly while you were cozying up with Maskett.” 

Zelda felt her cheeks warm. “I wasn’t cozying— it’s important to build alliance with the future leaders of the kingdom and— one day he’ll head Shimzu House and I just want—“

Zelda trailed off when she saw Yenobia’s face, barely restraining laughter. Zelda found herself laughing, too. 

“I’m just teasing. That’s what sisters do, right?” Yenobia bumped Zelda lightly with her shoulder. 

“Yes, I suppose it is.” 

They stared out over Kakariko, content. Zelda found she rather liked Yenobia’s company. 

“Speaking of sisters… I wonder if you might… come with us.” 

Yenobia’s smile faded. “Oh, Jabin and I really should return to Akkala..." 

“It’s just… I admire the way you so tactfully told them to bugger off. The silver tongue is not a gift I was born with,” Zelda admitted. “I could use someone like that. I’m still learning, and Link hardly talks at all. And… I’d like to get to know my sister.” 

For one hundred years, Zelda had thought she’d lost her family. To suddenly find out she had more was a shock, to be sure, but… not an altogether unwelcome one. 

Yenobia regarded her. Then her face slowly split into a grin. “When do we leave?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my mind, the Sheikah are also Hylians, but ones that have developed some sort of magic (and therefore have slightly longer lifespans). So that's why I'm not including them as a separate race.


	4. Resurrection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late, but it's another long one, so please find it in your hearts to forgive the tardiness.

Link rose before dawn. 

After the excitement of the Council yesterday, he had not slept well. The words of the nobility had left him with a sour taste in his mouth all night. He knew there was some Hylian prejudice against the other races, but over the course of his travels across Hyrule, he’d never seen it much in action. But the council? If they were supposed to represent Hyrule in all its forms, that meant including the other races, and yet they were so ready to dismiss them as seemingly second-class citizens. Of course, Link recognized that they probably felt that way about common Hylians as well—he’d seen how some of the nobles had looked at him—but the issue remained. 

And that lord from Lanayru—Kaan! Just thinking about his remarks regarding the other Champions made Link’s blood boil. Nominating his son as Champion was clearly a power move, but the reason behind his dismissal of Link’s friends was of no consequence. How dare he make them out to be less than they were! Mipha, Urbosa, Revali, and Daruk had given their lives defending Hyrule, and Kaan had the audacity to claim they weren’t worthy?! Link itched to test him in combat himself, see how he held up. And though Kaan's son had eventually sided with Zelda, Link held a similar distaste for the young man. He’d been conspicuously silent during the nominations portion of the council, and Link had a feeling he was just as politically motivated as his father. The fact that Zelda seemed charmed by him didn’t help; couldn’t she see he was a snake too? 

It had taken all of Link’s willpower to not interrupt them while they’d talked after the meeting. He knew such an action could offend the Lanayru man, and though he cared little for what Maskett thought, Link didn’t want to reflect poorly on Zelda’s shaky hold on the throne. And so, her laughter echoing in his mind, he’d bit his tongue so hard he drew blood and hurried back around the porch, vaulting over it near the back of the house. 

Just thinking about all the upcoming political intrigue he was likely to witness over the coming weeks and months made his head hurt. Though Link had few memories of castle life, he knew he’d never been allowed in council meetings, and for that he was absurdly grateful. He was a Knight; he fought physical monsters. He’d never been good with fighting with words, reasoning he used to stay silent. His duty was a physical one—his words didn’t matter. But he had a feeling that would soon change, which made his skin crawl. 

To blow off some of his restless energy built up during the council meeting, he’d gone to spar with Steen. He would have preferred fighting with Paya (Steen had a tendency to explain every move to within an inch of its life), but she was nowhere to be seen, likely praying or keeping up the Sheikah statues. And the sparring had worn him out, but as he lay in his bed at the inn late that night, his mind was far from exhausted. He’d gone round in circles thinking of Maskett down the hall, and what he might be trying to gain from Zelda. Though he knew that Zelda was safe in Impa’s house, where she’d spent the week recovering from the fight with Ganon, Link still felt like he wasn’t doing enough, not when there were schemes afoot. Link didn’t like schemers. Give him a fight with fists or blades any day. 

There was another reason he was hesitant to sleep, though. For the past week, he’d been plagued by half-remembered nightmares and hazy dreams that made his head ache. He knew in his heart they were snippets of his memories, trying to fight their way back into his head, but they’d provided little comfort, especially when he couldn’t really remember them when he woke. His father’s voice played a prominent role, though he only seemed to talk about knight training, which frustrated Link to no end. But more than that… Link was afraid of what he might find in his own head. For now, he felt no grief at the loss of his family, because they occupied no territory in his mind. They were concepts; he knew that he had a mother and father, and that they were now gone—had been gone for one hundred years and possibly more—but he could conjure no feelings towards them besides the perfunctory love he felt he must feel as their son. But what would happen if or when he really remembered? How would he handle their loss? He could barely tolerate the loss of the Champions; every time he thought too deeply about the scattered memories he had of them, he felt the yawning chasm in his heart threaten to swallow him whole. What would happen when he felt his parents gone? 

And so Link had tossed and turned in his bed for the majority of the night, eventually giving up on sleep a few hours before dawn. Over the course of his travels, he’d discovered he liked the view from the small fenced bluff overlooking Telta Lake on the north side of Kakariko; it was secluded enough, and Link could see all of Central Hyrule from the vantage. It was here he headed when he could no longer stand the scratchy inn mattress. He donned his Champion’s tunic and simple trousers, perfect for walking and riding. The tunic was perhaps a tad flashy, but Link knew this was a diplomatic trip; Zelda could use all the support she could get. He gathered up the rest of his gear, ready to travel when Zelda awoke. Soon he would join his princess. But for these precious hours before dawn, Link needed to be alone. 

He sat on the fence overlooking the rest of Hyrule. It was a clear night, with the first few rays of sun just beginning to peak over the eastern sea. As he watched the sky lighten, he fiddled with his bracer, mindlessly adjusting the straps and the patterned sleeve of his undershirt. 

Link’s incomplete memories bothered him more than he cared to admit. When he’d only had the few memories Zelda had provided during his travels across Hyrule, he at least felt like he knew himself in those moments. He could clearly see his friends and he knew his own feelings regarding the events. But these flashes, these fragments… His head felt like one of the Goron mines—there were jewels in there somewhere, but they were buried under tons of worthless clutter. He rather felt like he did when he first awoke in the Shrine of Resurrection: frantically lost, desperately exposed, and searching for some answers to the white noise in his head. Link was a soldier, and a Knight; he lived for order. To suddenly find his life once again so disordered was— was— 

Why did it have to be him? Why was he the one who had to possess the spirit of a Hero? And even now, when he’d fulfilled his destiny, wasn’t he allowed some Goddess-damned peace and quiet? In another life, perhaps he would have been able to live a simple life, be an adventurer, marry a nice girl…

Maybe it would have been Mipha. 

Anger rose in Link’s gut, and he could not stop himself from slamming a fist into the fence below him, letting out a cry of surprise and hurt when the rotted board he sat upon gave way and he tumbled to the ground. 

Link sat up, rubbing his now-bloody knuckles, not bothering to suppress a hiss of pain. Grabbing his pack, he pulled a cleaning elixir and a roll of bandages out and began the arduous process of removing the splinters now puncturing his skin. 

Stupid. He should know better. He’d once been better at controlling his emotions. 

If only Zelda were able to control her magic…

No. To fall down that line of thinking was to breed resentment towards the Princess, something he couldn’t allow. If Hyrule were to be not only restored but made better, Zelda needed him to be the stoic Knight he once was, and though Link knew he would never be quite the same, he could at least act the part. 

Link finished cleaning his knuckles and gently wrapped his hand in the gauze. Though he was loathe to draw more attention to his momentary loss of his cool head, his hand still bled and he didn’t want to make a mess of his clothes. 

His wound dressed and his supplies put away, Link figured he should start heading back to Impa’s. It was almost dawn, and Zelda was nothing if not punctual, especially when it came to travel. He’d gone to the Dueling Peaks Stable a few days ago to fetch another horse for Zelda for when they inevitably left, and he needed to saddle both horses to be ready on time. 

At least soon they’d be on their way, back to the wilds of Hyrule. He and Zelda always did better on the road. Maybe it would all work itself out. Link could hope. 

If only. 

Once Link had the horses saddled—a brown mare he’d rescued from some bokoblins and named Lightfoot due to her agility and the white stallion he knew was destined to be Zelda’s, named Snowbird for his speed—he sat by the fire near Impa’s house to wait. He was pulling out some mushroom rice balls from his bag when he saw Zelda descending Impa’s stairs. She waved at him and joined him by the fire. 

“Good morning, Link,” she said with a yawn. She wore her old Champion’s clothes as well; Impa had kept hers with Link’s. Her golden hair was braided neatly in a crown around her face. As she tipped her head back and let the dawn warm her face, Link couldn’t help the small smile forming on his lips. She looked more comfortable than she’d appeared since he’d rescued her. 

“Good morning, Princess.” He handed her a rice ball, noting the way her lips turned downward in a little frown. Perhaps she didn’t care for mushrooms and rice? That memory didn’t seem right in his head, but what did he know about remembering things properly? He would have to file that piece of information away for the future. 

“I wonder how Zora’s Domain has changed,” Zelda murmured. Link had a feeling she was mostly talking to herself, but he felt compelled to answer just the same. 

“It's mostly as it was,” Link replied quietly. “The city still sparkles with luminous stones. Even the people are the same. Though perhaps a tad more distrusting of Hylians than they once were.” 

Zelda picked absently at a piece of grass. “I guess I should expect that. Hylians are what got them into this whole mess to begin with.” 

“Hylians got them out of it, too,” Link said in a low voice. Zelda met his eyes; he could see the uncertainty there. She may be over a hundred years old but she was still little more than a child, scared of making a mistake. Link could relate. 

“Well, really one Hylian in particular.” Zelda looked away and the moment was broken. 

Link finished his food. “Don’t sell yourself short, Princess. You helped a little.” 

Zelda chuckled. “I suppose that’s true. Though, really, I’m responsible for you being here at all, so actually I deserve all the credit.” 

Link leaned back on his hands. He liked this easy banter. Was this what it was like before the Calamity? “You can have it all, Princess. I don’t need any more credit.” 

“Who’s selling who short now?” 

Link let out a quiet snort of laughter. 

Zelda smiled in return, though it quickly faded. “Hyrule is much changed since I last saw it. I wonder… does it have any use for the monarchy anymore?” 

Link looked out over Kakariko, which was just beginning to stir. Lasli and Claree walked arm in arm as they headed towards the clothing shop. Cado threw out some feed for his cuccos. Koko and Cottla began their daily game of tag, up the hill towards the shrine. Did these people feel the loss of their princess or their king? To look at it as it was, one would have to say no. Life proceeded as it always had here. But Link still felt that wasn’t quite right. 

He glanced back at Zelda, who had her arms wrapped around her knees as she stared into the fire. She didn’t appear to be expecting an answer, but Link had to say something. 

“I don’t know if they realize it. But they need a Queen, I think,” Link said. 

Zelda scoffed a little. “They seem to be doing just fine on their own.” 

Link shrugged. “In the individual villages, sure. But Hyrule isn’t individual villages. I’ve seen the kingdom from top to bottom and everything in between. They’re not united. The closest I’ve seen is Tarrey Town, and I helped build it.” 

Zelda stared at him, her green eyes reflecting the morning dew on the grass. 

“That’s what a Queen is for. To make Hylians and Rito and Zora and Gorons and Gerudo Hyruleans,” Link finished. 

Zelda blinked, and the dew was gone. “You might be right.” 

Link nodded, hoping she believed what he said. Though he might not remember it, Hyrule was once united as one nation. He hoped he could see it become so again. 

“Who’s ready to beat some dirt?!” 

Link looked up to see Yenobia striding towards them, dressed in her traveling clothes. Jabin struggled with their various packs a few steps behind her. 

“I hope you don’t mind, I invited some companions along,” Zelda told him. Link’s eyes slid back to Yenobia and Jabin. Truth be told, he didn’t mind. He sort of liked Yenobia: she was boisterous and opinionated and loud, but she was also passionate and cared about Hyrule. Jabin was quiet more than anything, rather a lot like Link; the Knight could handle the two of them. 

But apparently the Goddess wasn’t going to be so kind. 

“What ho, travelers! A beautiful morning for adventure, is it not?” 

Maskett strode up to the fire and dropped his pack unceremoniously next to Link. 

Link only just resisted the urge to punch something again. 

The nobleman was bedecked in a fitted tunic stitched with shimmering gold thread in the shape of stars. It was finer than any traveling clothes Link had ever seen. The Knight was suddenly glad he’d worn his Champion’s tunic. 

Zelda shot to her feet, smoothing down her hair. “Good morning, Maskett!” 

Maskett swept himself forward in a courtly bow. Link had to fight hard not to roll his eyes. “You are radiant as ever, my lady.” 

Zelda smiled. “Thank you. You slept well, I take it?” 

Link rose to his feet and sketched a slight bow of his own before hurrying off to see to the horses. He didn’t need to hear their chitchat; he wasn’t particularly interested in how Maskett slept. Yenobia followed him with a grin. 

Link secured his saddlebags with perhaps more force than required, and his horse Lightfoot whickered with a toss of her head. Link apologized to the brown mare and stroked her mane, calming her back down. 

“Peacocks love to preen, don’t they?” 

Link glanced up to see Yenobia standing beside him. She held her hand out for Lightfoot to sniff before giving the mare a gentle pat on the nose. Link raised an eyebrow. 

Yenobia jerked her head back towards where Zelda and Maskett stood around the fire. “He’s a peacock. All feathers and no meat. And maybe if you got too close, he would bite, but he wouldn’t do any real damage.” 

Link snorted and continued adjusting the saddlebags, making sure they were weighted properly. Yenobia followed him around to Snowbird. She produced an apple from somewhere and held it out to the stallion, who eyed it warily. The horse didn’t warm to strangers very quickly. 

“I guess it runs in the family,” Yenobia sniffed. “I’ve seen Shimzu Estate, back before the Calamity. It’s very pretty and very big and very boring.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Zelda is just dazzled by the feathers.” 

Link’s eyes slid back to the princess and the nobleman. They were heading over to Maskett’s horse, which was tied up some distance away. Zelda talked animatedly, moving her hands to illustrate whatever point she was making. She pulled the Sheikah Slate from her hip and showed something to Maskett on it. Link tried not to feel possessive. It wasn’t really his Slate; he was just borrowing it for the time he needed it. But even so. 

“You best be safe, travelers.” 

Link looked up to see Impa standing at the top of her stairs, observing the scene. Paya stood next to her, hands outstretched nervously. Impa waved her off. “I’m fine, Papaya. Stop fussing.” 

Paya withdrew her hands, wringing them. Zelda left Maskett and climbed the stairs. Link followed her a few feet behind. They were really the only ones who knew Impa well enough to warrant a heartfelt goodbye. 

Zelda threw her arms around the old woman, who hugged her back gently. “Fair adventuring, my dear princess.” 

“Thank you, Impa,” Zelda murmured into her shoulder. “I’ll miss you.” 

Impa patted her back and released her. “You’ll return before you know it. In fact, you might just return as Queen.” 

Zelda did not look comforted by this, but nodded all the same. Impa turned to Link and shook a gnarled finger in his direction. “You best continue doing your job, Knight. Keep our Princess safe.” 

Link nodded once. He knew his duty. 

Paya stepped forward, holding a neatly wrapped package out with shaking hands towards Zelda. “For y- you, Princess. Grandmother said you- you liked f- fruitcake.” She avoided Zelda’s eyes. The young Sheikah woman was as stuttering and shy around the princess as she was around Link, and, Link suspected, for a similar reason. Paya was not subtle. But he didn’t mind the girl’s affections, and he had a feeling Zelda didn’t, either. 

Zelda took the package gently. “Thank you, Paya. You’ve become a dear friend, and I am sorry to say goodbye.” 

Paya blushed bokoblin-red and muttered something about it being nothing and she was also a dear friend and regretting saying goodbye, but she gripped Zelda’s hand just the same and then stepped back, hiding behind her hands. 

Link nodded in farewell to her. She returned the nod with a bashful smile. 

Link and Zelda descended the stairs, reuniting with the group. Yenobia, Jabin, and Maskett were already mounted on horseback. Maskett gave a sweeping wave of his arm. “Thank you for your generous hospitality, Lady Impa!” 

Impa waved him off dismissively. 

Yenobia raised her hand in a similar, if subdued wave. “Yes, thank you, Lady Impa.” Her quiet gratitude sounded much more sincere than Maskett’s display. Jabin also gave a simple wave and a heartfelt smile. 

Impa nodded kindly in return, and headed back inside her house with the help of Paya. 

Link turned to Zelda, who was eyeing Snowbird with an openmouthed stare. She reached out a hand and the horse snorted nervously. 

“He’s… Rex?” 

Link shook his head. “A descendant, maybe. I caught him near Sanidin Park. A man at Outskirt Stable gave me the saddle and bridle. Apparently his grandfather was a ranch hand at the Royal Stable.” 

Link tossed Zelda an apple, who held it out to the stallion with a shaking hand. Snowbird eyed it for a moment before stepping slowly forward and taking the apple gently from her. 

Zelda huffed out a broken laugh as the horse pushed his nose into her hand. “He’s sweeter than Rex, I’ll say.” 

Link helped Zelda up into the saddle. Even with her simple traveling clothes, surrounded by the royal purples and golds of the saddle, she looked like she belonged there. “His name is Snowbird.” 

Zelda ran a hand through the horse’s mane. “Snowbird. It suits him, I think.” 

“Be sure to take the time to soothe your mount…” Link murmured as he swung up into Lightfoot’s saddle. 

“It’s the only way it will know how you truly feel,” Zelda finished with a smile. As the party started the ride out of Kakariko, she patted Snowbird’s neck and he leaned into the touch. 

“Quite wise, Zelda,” Maskett cut in, riding between Zelda and Link. Lightfoot snorted at the intrusion. Link could sympathize. 

“I can’t claim credit for it. Link gave me that advice a long time ago,” Zelda said with a glance back at her Knight. He met her gaze with a stoic one of his own. 

Zelda and Maskett rode next to each other, with Link behind them. Yenobia and Jabin brought up the rear, side by side. 

“I would expect nothing less from the Princess’s Chosen Hero,” Maskett said approvingly, half-looking back. 

Behind him, Yenobia said, “Why don’t you ever give me useful advice like that? The closest you’ve ever come was telling me not to keep live frogs in my pack because they’ll get my books all wet.” 

Link heard Jabin’s answering laugh. “Well, I wouldn’t want to give too much away. You have to figure some things out by yourself.” 

Yenobia grumbled at that response. 

Link felt a little like the odd man out. 

The chasm walls around them leveled off and the group reached Sahasra Slope. 

Maskett rode ahead a bit. “Come, Zelda! There’s a wonderful view of Shimzu Estate from the top of Rikoka Hill!” 

Zelda looked ready to follow him but something caught her eye. “I’ll join you in a minute.” And she spurred Snowbird forward down the slope. Link followed her. Maskett seemed torn, but Yenobia read the situation with a shrewd eye and she pulled her dappled blue mare forward. 

“We would love to see, Sir Maskett,” she said, batting her eyes. Jabin rolled his discreetly. “Wouldn’t we, Jabin?” 

Maskett nodded with a smile, and the three set off up the hill. 

Link spurred Lightfoot forward and caught up with Zelda. She’d dismounted on the bluff overlooking Hyrule and was kneeling in the grass. Link dismounted and joined her as she gently fingered one of the thousands of Silent Princesses dotting the hill. 

“I can’t believe…” 

Link was surprised to hear tears in Zelda’s voice. He knelt down, unsure how to comfort her. He reached out a hand towards her shoulder, only to withdraw it when she sat upright and wiped her eyes. She turned to him with a watery smile. 

“They used to be endangered, but now…” She turned and looked out across the hill, the blue and white petals waving gently in the breeze. 

“Seems they were able to survive,” Link said. 

Zelda nodded, getting to her feet and looking out across Hyrule. Link followed suit. It felt odd to no longer see black and purple Malice swirling around the castle, but somehow the silent ruins felt just as wrong as Ganon’s infection. There had once been life there, even when Ganon had taken it over; now it was little more than a shell, a lifeless husk. 

Zelda gazed towards Lanayru. 

“I suppose it’s not so different as I thought,” she spoke softly. “It truly is something to see the Divine Beasts where they should be.” She pulled the Sheikah Slate from her hip and looked through the scanner towards Vah Ruta. 

"We’ll make our way to Zora’s Domain. Divine Beast Vah Ruta…” Her brows furrowed as she stared at the Slate. “Looks like it stopped working. Let’s investigate the situation."

She lowered the Slate slightly as something else crossed her mind. "Mipha’s father…I believe he would like to hear more about her. The least we can do is visit him and offer him some closure.”

Yes, Link thought. King Dorephan would certainly like some closure. And Zelda remembered Mipha far better than Link did, though arguably he had been closer to the Zora Princess. But the king—and Prince Sidon, for that matter—would love any details Zelda could spare. 

Zelda spoke again. "Although Ganon is gone for now, there is still so much more for us to do. And so many painful memories we must bear."

Or not bear, in Link’s case. His heart clenched at the thought. 

Zelda took a halting step forward. "I believe in my heart that if all of us work together... we can restore Hyrule to its former glory. Perhaps... even beyond. But it must all must start with us.

Link had a feeling she was talking about the nobles. He wondered if they would ever be able to work together. 

Zelda turned and headed back to their horses. "Let’s be off.” 

Link couldn’t make his feet follow at first. When he’d been traversing Hyrule before he rescued Zelda, he’d thought Hyrule capable of anything. The people were resilient, and they had endured for one hundred years of Calamity. But meeting the nobles, hearing their petty squabbles and desperate bids for power, Link suddenly wasn’t so sure. But, he realized, if anyone could do fix them, it was the woman who had held off pure Evil for the last century. Surely people were easier to defeat than Malice. Link took a few steps after Zelda when she slowed to a stop. 

"I can no longer hear the voice inside the sword.” She spoke without turning, as though afraid to voice the words. "I suppose it makes sense if my power had dwindled over the past 100 years…”

After a moment of silence, she finally turned back to Link. It hurt him to see the sadness on her face, but it slowly melted into a smile. 

"I’m surprised to admit it… But I can accept that.”

Her grin grew wider, and Link couldn’t resist the urge to jog forward to meet her. This was where she thrived, much like her favorite flower. The wild was where she belonged. 

Before they remounted their horses, Link deftly plucked a Silent Princess and stuck it in Snowbird’s bridle. Zelda didn’t notice, but she would. He hoped it brought another smile like her earlier one. 

————————————————————

They rode companionably for the morning as they crossed the plains north of Kakariko, reaching the road around noon. When Link and Zelda rejoined the group, Link was once again relegated to the middle as Maskett pushed forward to ride next to Zelda. He kept up a near-constant stream of conversation, occasionally making Zelda laugh or reply with a smile. 

By the time they stopped for a simple picnic in the grass, Link’s knuckles hurt from clenching his reins. He chalked it up to the fact that he’d been hyper-vigilant of monsters or other foes, though so far they’d made it without incident. 

But the serenity only added to Link’s unease. Surely they should have seen some sort of threat by now, even if it was just a bokoblin? Since Ganon’s defeat, there had not been another Blood Moon, but he didn’t think he’d killed all the monsters in Lanayru since the last one. So where were they? The optimist in him said perhaps they were simply hiding, now that Ganon was no longer their safety net. But the pessimist in him said they were planning something, and the pessimist is usually what kept him alive. So he remained vigilant, and tuned out most of the conversation. It was mostly Maskett expounding upon the beauty of Lanayru and Shimzu Estate, so it wasn’t that hard. 

But a mention of the Lanayru Wetlands caught Link’s ear and he tuned back in. 

“—only an hour or two from here, and from there, the path is easy.” Maskett gestured with his hand expansively. "Even though they’re partially sunken, the Wetlands are still in excellent shape, considering they were heavily targeted during the Calamity, or so I’ve—"

“You want to go through the Wetlands,” Link interrupted. Four sets of eyes fell on him. Everyone except Zelda had surprise in their eyes; he supposed it was because he spoke so little except around her. 

Maskett recovered quickly, though. “Of course. It’s the fastest route to the Domain.” 

“And ten times as dangerous,” Link challenged. Was this dolt really suggesting such a path? 

“If you don’t go across the islands, you have to ride all the way around Crenel Peak! It would add a day to our journey at least.” 

Link could feel his teeth grinding as he spoke. “The islands are teeming with monsters.” 

Maskett gestured to him. “That’s why we have you, Sir Knight! And if you’re not confident in your ability to defend the Princess, I have fighting skills of my own.” 

Link’s vision temporarily went red. Maskett doubted his fighting skills? Link was happy to give him a demonstration if he required it. 

But his anger drained away when Zelda laid a hand on his arm. “I would get to the Domain sooner rather than later.” 

Link recognized he was pleading, but he couldn’t stop himself. “There’s a Hinox on Kincean Island.” 

Zelda’s brows knit. “Surely you’ve already taken care of it? I never knew you to shy away from a fight before.” 

Her tone was innocent enough, but the question made Link bristle, and he shook her hand off. “I have taken care of it. Several times, in fact. But the damned Blood Moon kept bringing it back, and I don’t remember if I’ve  _taken care of it_ since the last one.” 

Link rarely swore out loud, and he could tell he’d surprised Zelda. 

“So it shouldn’t be an issue to take care of one more time, should it?” Link could tell she was asking these questions from a purely curious point of view, but it got under his skin nonetheless. 

“You were right, Princess, I don’t shy away from a fight, but a stupid decision? Those I avoid like the plague.” 

Link knew by her expression that he’d crossed a line, but he didn’t take it back. Zelda’s eyes hardened like bloodstone. 

“If it’s still there, we can sneak around it. Hinoxes sleep like the dead.” She spoke it as a command, voice brooking no argument. If they’d been alone, Link might have continued to protest, but the last thing he wanted to do was undermine her power in front of people, and her voice cut him like steel, so he bit his tongue. Literally, in fact, as he could soon taste blood. 

Zelda turned back to Maskett. “Lead on, sir.” 

Maskett acquiesced with a grin. He and Zelda rode ahead, Zelda with her nose in the air. Link fell into step behind them once again, but Yenobia, who’d been strangely silent the whole exchange, suddenly caught up to him. 

“I get the feeling the young Lord Shimzu doesn’t get off the estate very much,” she spoke in a low voice. 

Link shook his head. “This is foolish. Maskett is foolish.” He kept his voice low, much as he wanted to shout it in the noble’s ear. “It’s not just monsters. I’ve come across Yiga on those islands, too.” 

Yenobia gripped the strap of her scabbard. “I faced a Yiga Footsoldier once with Baba.” She made a face. "They appeared as a traveler and tried to pawn twelve bunches of bananas off on us.” 

Link let out a mirthless chuckle. The Yiga loved their damn bananas, that was for sure. 

Yenobia continued. “When we refused, they transformed and attacked us. They were fast, but Baba was faster.” Her voice held a tinge of pride. 

Link regarded her. “You know how to fight?” 

Yenobia glanced sideways at him. “I know how to hold my own.” 

Link had a feeling she was better than she let on. 

“But I still remember that sickle as it swung down towards Baba…” Yenobia shuddered. “It was indeed vicious.” 

Link nodded. “Exactly why we should avoid the Wetlands.” 

Yenobia shrugged. “I think there is no dissuading the Princess. Maybe you should have been nicer.” 

Link grumbled and turned away. The last thing he needed was manners advice from Yenobia. 

Like Maskett said, they reached the Wetlands shortly. Link kept his bow and arrows at his fingertips. Everybody else seemed similarly on edge. Even Maskett stopped talking. Link counted that as a blessing. 

Though Link noticed some lizalfos in the distance, blending in with the grass, none tried to attack them, so he let them be. Best not to attract more attention to them than necessary. In fact, by the time they reached Molida Island, Link was beginning to relax somewhat. Maybe they could get through this without incident. 

As they neared Kincean Island, Link forced everyone to wait while he scouted ahead. He could tell Zelda didn’t like being ordered around.  _A taste of your own medicine, Princess._

Link crept over the rickety bridge, Master Sword drawn. But his stealth, it seemed, was for naught; there was no Hinox slumbering in the island clearing. 

Link waved his companions forward and breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe Maskett wasn’t such an idiot as he thought.

It was only when all four had crossed the bridge that Link felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. 

A whoosh and a familiar deep chuckle made the Knight’s blood run cold. 

Link turned to face the Yiga Blademaster and was immediately knocked over by the powerful blast of wind from his windcleaver. He felt the sharp gust cut his arm and tried to ignore the warm blood that ran down towards his wrist. 

“Link!” 

He looked up from the ground to see Zelda had dismounted her horse and was staring at him in horror. Yenobia, Jabin, and Maskett stood behind her, weapons drawn. Link waved at Zelda frantically to move, to hide, to do  _anything—_

Link was on his feet as quick as lightning. The Blademaster had caught him off-guard, but he could handle the Yiga. 

“Stay back. I’ve got this.” Link hefted the Master Sword as he faced the Blademaster. The red upside-down Sheikah eye had always given Link the willies, but he ignored the jolting in his stomach. This would be a quick fight. 

Or so he thought. 

As Link faced the Blademaster, the Yiga lowered his blade. Though the mask was inscrutable, Link had a strange feeling that the man was smiling. 

The Yiga raised one gloved hand high into the sky and slammed it down into the earth hard. Like usual, the ground fractured and erupted with stalagmites. Link prepared to catch the updraft with his paraglider, but the rocks did not travel towards him. 

Instead, they veered out towards the former sleeping grounds of the defeated Hinox. 

The points broke through the ground, causing a small earthquake. He could hear shouts from his companions as they were knocked off-balance. He himself nearly lost his footing, staying upright only by planting his sword into the earth and holding on. 

Rocks exploded from the ground, but they were not the only thing coming from the earth. Embedded in the clay were bones—huge, bleached white, and smooth. Link gasped when he recognized the single-eyed skull. 

The bones reformed into the ghastly form of a stalnox, its razor-sharp teeth grinning evilly. It stomped its feet, nearly coming back apart at the force and letting out a wicked, chattering roar. 

_Alright,_ Link thought.  _I’ve handled worse than a stalnox and a Blademaster. Piece of cake._ He gripped the Master Sword tighter. 

But that was not the end of it. 

As Link and his companions watched in horror, oily black skin began forming around the stalnox, covering it completely. It blinked once, and its blue-green skeletal eye turned red, life once again present. 

Link’s jaw dropped at the fully-reformed Hinox, now black where once it had been a simple red one. But the Blademaster didn’t give him much time to gape. The Yiga charged Link’s friends, but the Knight met him head-on, taking all of his attention. 

Were it just him, Link could handle the Hinox and the Blademaster without issue (or at least, without too much issue). But he could not fight two powerful foes and protect four people at the same time, and so he called out in a strangled voice, “Yenobia! The Hinox!” 

“Got it!” Yenobia sprang forward, followed by Jabin. She wielded a wickedly curved Gerudo scimitar, while Jabin had a simpler traveler’s sword. They met the Hinox halfway, one staying in front to distract while the other scattered behind to attack. They seemed to be holding their own. But Link couldn’t follow their progress too closely. 

He and the Yiga Blademaster traded blows, Link being careful to avoid the windcleaver’s powerful strokes. The Blademaster was an excellent fighter; he used his strength and size as a weapon all on its own. But though Link was smaller, he was also lighter, faster, and more agile, and the Yiga could just not keep up. Link landed one lucky hit that sent the Blademaster reeling, and he disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving behind the sword and a bundle of bananas. But Link had no time for spoils of battle; he immediately turned and jumped into the fight with the Hinox. 

Yenobia and Jabin had done well; it took only a few quick blows to fell the monster. But Link was winded just the same, clutching his wounded arm and trying to calm the haze of panic in his head. 

Zelda and Maskett ran up to join them once the threats were dispatched. 

“Where are your healing elixirs?” Zelda demanded once she approached Link. But he waved her off weakly. It was nothing a good bandage wouldn’t fix; he didn’t need to waste a whole elixir on one shallow cut. He communicated as much to her with his eyes. He could see the reproof in her clear green eyes, but he shook her off and she relented. 

“That was quite a battle, Sir Knight!” Maskett exclaimed. His words brought Link back to reality, and brought it home to him how much he truly hated the nobleman. 

“Where were your fighting skills when we needed them, huh, Maskett?” Link couldn’t help spitting the words at him. “Doubt my ability now?” 

Maskett’s brows furrowed in anger. “You twist my words—“

Zelda stepped between them. “That is  _quite_ enough out of both of you. Yenobia, Jabin, are you alright?” 

Yenobia’s eyes were alight with the excitement of battle. “We’re unharmed. Nothing like a good fight to get your blood pumping, eh, Jabin?” 

Jabin looked like he rather disagreed with that statement as he leaned heavily on his knees, trying to catch his breath. 

Zelda’s gaze met Link’s again. “That was—“

“A fully resurrected Hinox,” he finished. “Brought back by a Yiga.” 

That sobered the rest of the group. 

“That’s impossible,” Jabin said. “They don’t possess such powers.” 

"They’re just Sheikah with uglier robes,” Yenobia added. 

“But they did it just the same,” Link responded. 

Nobody knew what to say to that. Link met Zelda’s worried gaze. If the Yiga could resurrect monsters like Ganon’s Blood Moons had, they were in serious trouble. A Hinox, even a black one, was one thing, but what about all the Lynels Link had slain over the course of his travels? 

“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation. But for now, we best continue on—“ Maskett began. But Zelda cut him off, and Link wanted to cheer. 

“Sir Maskett, I believe you’ve done enough. I’ve seen quite enough of Lanayru on your tour, thank you very much.” Zelda strode back to the horses, pulling a roll of gauze out of Lightfoot’s saddlebag and returning to Link. “I think it’s time you head back to your home.” 

Maskett blanched. “But Princess—“

Zelda turned her gaze on him, and Link had never seen her look so much like a queen as she did in that moment: commanding, regal, and absolutely terrifying. 

“My Knight was injured because of your suggestions today. I suggest you do as I tell you.” 

Maskett closed his mouth with a snap, gave a stiff bow, and returned to his horse. He rode off without another word. Zelda watched him go before returning to tending Link’s arm. 

Yenobia burst into laughter. “That was the best thing I’ve seen all week!” 

Zelda did not return the smile. Her head was bent over Link’s arm, and he could smell the flowery scent of the soap she’d used in Kakariko. He resisted the urge to breath it deeply in. 

“We will not make it to the Domain tonight, and I refuse to camp here. Where do you suggest, Link?” 

Oh, now she wanted to listen to him. But looking into her hard eyes cooled his anger. He would be mad later. “On the mainland east of Mercay Island, the road branches. There’s a shrine there that should be safe.” 

Zelda nodded, tying off the bandages neatly. “Then that’s where we’ll go.” 

Without another word, she turned away and walked back to her horse. She did not look back at Link once. They had a long road ahead. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, a shameless plug for my tumblr! Follow me at zomowrites for updates on chapters, BOTW art, and other stuff I think is cool! Thanks for reading!


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